


In My Blood, The Fire and Flood

by WaxyWolf



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bending (Avatar), Canon-Typical Violence, Earthbender Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Earthbender Kim Taehyung | V, Established Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, F/M, Firebender Jeon Jungkook, Firebender Kim Namjoon | RM, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Multi, NaNoWriMo 2020, Nonbender Kim Seokjin | Jin, Nonbender Park Jimin, Panic Attacks, Refugees, Trans Female Character, War, Waterbender Min Yoongi | Suga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaxyWolf/pseuds/WaxyWolf
Summary: War is coming, the Fire Nation's threat looming larger each passing day.In the century before the avatar's return, seven unlikely friends find themselves at a crossroads, running from violence.In a world full of giants, what can you do to leave your mark?You make tea.Damn good tea.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung | V/Min Yoonji
Comments: 22
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Sweethearts!
> 
> This was written for NaNoWriMo 2020! I had a blast writing this, even within the time constraints. I've been so excited to share this with folks!
> 
> Special thanks to Night for making me a beautiful moodboard and listening to me go down rabbit holes of research. 
> 
> Happy Reading!
> 
> Title from "Bitter Water" by The Oh Hellos

The boy is scared, but not of Jin. 

This is the first thing Jin notices about the kid; he is terrified down to his bones and trying to hide it. His face is carefully blank, but his left hand clutches the tattered strap of his shoulder bag like it could disappear at any second. Like Jin could take it from him. Maybe that’s why the boy’s partner’s eyes dart back and forth, narrowed and daring Jin to fulfill the kid’s worst fear. 

Maybe that’s why Jin lets them in. Because while scared men are dangerous, Jin refuses to let his own fear rule over his compassion. 

Because the war will not take that from him, not yet. 

\-----

Jin never thought he’d open a bakery. It was never one of his fantastical daydreams as a child, when he would fantasize that he was a king, or a warrior, or the avatar. 

It turns out he is none of those things, the last one sharply realized when no bendings answers his call, ever. 

In a world full of giants, what can you do to leave your mark?

You make tea.

Damn good tea.

\-----

The sun has barely peeked over the horizon by the time Namjoon pushes his way through the backdoor, shirt sleeves rolled up and ready for work. As usual, Jin is already tending to the ovens, a round tray of shaped dough sitting on the counter ready to be baked. 

“G’morning!” Namjoon greets him brightly. Jin startles, falling out of his kneeling crouch and catching himself on his hands. He glares at Namjoon. 

“It’s too early for your horrible optimism,” he gripes, but there’s no real anger in his voice as he stands and brushes the dirt from his hands. Namjoon just hums and continues further into the kitchen, pulling down ceramic pots and jars of various ingredients. 

“Just wait till Hoseok gets here,” remarks Namjoon absently, thinking of their newest hire’s seemingly endless energy. Jin groans at the thought, poking at the embers in the oven to stoke the fire. He’s got a smear of ash on his forehead and sleep in his eyes, but Namjoon knows Jin enjoys the quiet rush of the morning as much as he does. 

“Start the dasik, will you please?” 

“Already on it, hyung!” Namjoon chirps, throwing an apron over his head. Jin shoots him a look before turning back to his fire. 

It’s another ten minutes before their work is interrupted by the backdoor swinging wide open. Namjoon’s in the middle of mixing the honey with the green tea powder when a loud voice echoes through the kitchen. The sunrise enters with this new figure, spreading yellow across the floor to touch Namjoon’s feet.

“Good morning! I brought flowers for hwajeon!” Hoseok thrusts forward a basket, full to the brim of aromatic flowers from his garden. Even in early spring, when the cold keeps the more extravagant flowers from blooming, Hoseok somehow manages to coax some color into the dreary gray days. 

“You’re definitely more of a morning person than I am, Hobi,” says Namjoon, smiling at his friend. Hoseok sets the basket of purple and white flowers on a rare inch of open counter space. He beams at Namjoon. 

“I like to rise with the sun! The plants and earth come alive, and so do I.” As he speaks, Jin bustles in from the main room of the bakery, carrying a tray of pitchers. Hoseok waves as he reaches for an apron. 

“Good morning hyung!” 

“Ever the optimist,” Jin grumbles, no real annoyance in his tone. Hoseok just shrugs and hums, setting to work. Namjoon rolls the last remnants of sleep from his shoulders and gets to work. Soon, the bakery will be bustling with the morning rush; with students grabbing bowls of hotteok in a rush, housewives buying loaves of bread for dinner, and the older folks who like to drink green tea on the front stoop and complain. 

But now, the morning is a quiet rush in this small kitchen, full of people Namjoon trusts and early dandelion sunlight.

\-----

He’s only just sat down, ready for a moment off his feet when the door swings open. Now, this by itself is not enough to bring Namjoon back to his feet. It’s been a particularly rushed lunch shift, and Namjoon is glad for the brief break of just the after-school crowd of teens. 

But the two boys in the door aren’t school children. They’re older, closer to Namjoon’s age than adolescence. And yet, he wouldn’t call them adults either. 

The one in front is taller by a couple inches. His shoulders are free of any school bag, and they’re squared like he’s tensed for a fight. The shorter is slightly hidden from view, but he’s more hesitant than his companion, hands grasping the hem of his shirt. They don’t look like they’re from the Earth Kingdoms, though they wear it’s signature browns and greens. A memory stirs, a sight Namjoon hasn’t seen in a long, long time. Not since his own reflection looked like that. 

“Hello,” greets the taller. He sounds like he’s 17, at most. “We - both of us - would like to work here.” 

“Have you worked in a bakery before?” Namjoon hums from his seat at an empty table. Both boys look at each other and shake their heads. “What about a tea shop?” 

“I can fix things, or clean,” says the shorter one. “So can he. We’ll do anything you need us too.” 

“I can deliver things!” tacks on the taller, looking hopeful. 

“We don’t really do deliveries,” Namjoon apologizes, “but I’ll see what I can do. Why do you need this job specifically anyways?” 

Another shared look between the two. Namjoon waits patiently for an answer. They seem to be discussing something amongst themselves. Finally, they settle their debate and the shorter turns to face Namjoon again. 

“We heard…” he bites off carefully, picking his words, “that there was a firebender here who worked at the bakery. That he was a good man, with a good heart.” 

“Flattery will get you anywhere,” Namjoon huffs and sits up. “That’s me. Kim Namjoon, firebender and co-owner of this bakery, at your service.” 

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you.” The shorter bows quickly. “I’m Park Jimin and this is Jeon Jungkook.” The taller bows as well. “And for why we need a job here, well. We wanted to work together, and we wanted to work someplace where neither of us, I mean-” 

“-Where I wouldn’t get fired for having fire,” Jungkook interrupts quietly. Namjoon sits up a little more. He hasn’t met another firebender in months, possibly years; at least none that revealed themselves to him.

“You can call me hyung,” he tells them. “I’ll talk with my co-owner. In the meantime, would you like to try our spring blend?” 

-

“We  _ just _ hired someone, Namjoon-ah,” Jin says over his shoulder, where he hauls a bucket of water from the pump up the stairs. “We hired Hoseok and Taheyung, because we needed a little help in the morning and a little at night. Do we need two more people, including two people who will want to work at the same time?” 

  
“It could be temporary!” Namjoon protests from where he measures rice out of the sack. Jin heaves the bucket onto the kitchen counter, panting for breath. “We could give them a place to get on their feet, get some stability, and then let them go when they’ve found better opportunities. Or move on, they may not stay in Gaoling.” 

“It’s a bakery, not a charity,” Jin puffs, peering over Namjoon’s shoulder. “Add another scoop, I’m starving.” 

“You’re always hungry,” Namjoon bites back, adding another scoop of rice to the pot.

“Yeah, I own my own business,” Jin sniffs, going to chop the vegetables. “I’m allowed to be hungry at the end of the day.”

“ _ Our _ business,” Namjoon reminds him playfully.

“Whatever.”

“Hyung.” And now Jin pauses, looking down at his cutting board. “They look like how I looked. When I first came to Gaoling. They look scared.” 

“Namjoon-ah…” Jin exhales, closing his eyes. 

“Just these two. I promise I won’t ask to hire every single refugee that comes into the shop. But these two are so young. They’re just looking for a place to be, hyung. Let us be the ones to give that to them.” Jin knows that if he turns around, Namjoon will have that terribly-convincing expression on his face, the one that makes you feel like you’ve just kicked a turtle duck. 

“Alright, fine.  _ Temporarily _ ,” Jin stipulates, waving his knife in the air to underline the point. Namjoon beams. 

“I hope they stop by tomorrow, so you can meet them too!” 

-

Namjoon must have made some kind of deal with the spirit world, because Jimin and Jungkook are the first people Jin greets the next morning. 

“So? Have you talked about it?” The taller one, Jungkook, leans in expectantly. Jimin tugs on the back of his shirt, reining him in a little. 

“We did,” Jin confirms, leading them into the kitchen. 

“And?” 

“And if you let me finish, I might answer,” Jin quips back. Jungkook slumps, chastised. Jin sighs, already anticipating this boy’s puppy-like energy in his nice, calm bakery every day. 

“Sorry,” Jimin says. “We’re just a little nervous.” 

“Understandably so,” Jin says, softening. “Namjoon and I did talk about it, yes. Here’s what we came up with. You two can work here in the middle of the day, 10 to 6.” Both the boy’s faces light up, and Jin holds up a hand. “This is just to get you two on your feet! Once you’ve got a place and better opportunities, you can move onto something else.” 

“Thank you!” Jimin and Jungkook both bow briefly, their gratitude clear. “We won’t let you down,” Jungkook promises. 

“When do we start?” Jimin tacks on.

Jin remembers when his sister brought home an injured crococat she had found in an alley. The thing has been skinny, ill-kept and bad tempered. It had even attempted to eat Jin’s hand when he tried to pet it, letting out an unholy croaking yowl. 

His sister had cuddled it close to her cheek and begged with watery eyes for them to keep it. She promised to feed and walk it every day, to clean up after it. Jin had sat back and watched her, thinking how glad he was that he wasn’t the one making all those promises. Their father had said no the first couple of times, but eventually relented after half an hour of pleading. 

“Fine! We can keep the blasted thing until you find the real owners, alright? We’re asking around town tomorrow, no later! Just one night!” 

His sister had named the crococat, which they soon discovered to be a girl, Nabi. Jin didn’t think anything about the prickly, spiny feline was particularly reminiscent of a butterfly, but the name stuck around, as did Nabi. They did go into town to ask around, but no one knew of a missing, grouchy crococat or wanted to claim her. 

One night turned into one week, which turned into a whole season. Come next autumn, Nabi was still hanging around, lounging on their father’s favorite seat and looking exceptionally pleased with herself. All their father had done was sigh and resign himself to caring for this animal for the rest of eternity. 

Nabi had passed away quite a few years later, fat, lazy, and comfortable; still living in their family’s home long after his sister had gotten married. Jin misses that crococat sometimes, in the moments that he remembers his childhood and envies her for her endless naps.

Jin thinks that, if he squints, Jimin could almost be a crococat. Recalling Namjoon’s pleading eyes, Jin feels like his father. He has a sinking feeling he’ll be stuck with these strays much, much longer than till they find stability, regardless of what anyone has promised him. 

Looking into the lobby where the pair dutifully unstack chairs and set each table, Jin can see how hard it is for them to hide their smiles, their relief. And he thinks that maybe, an eternity wouldn’t be so bad anyways.

\-----

Jin thinks the boys might be trying to hide it at first. 

Not that he would have thrown them out for something as simple and unruly as loving another. In fact, Jin has taken another man to bed himself a handful of times before; he’s in no place to pass judgement for a crime he’s guilty of as well. Besides, homosexual relationships aren’t unheard of these days, though some stigma still remains. 

It’s their choice, after all. If Jimin and Jungkook don’t wish to publicly declare their relationship to their new boss, that’s really none of Jin’s business. 

But honestly, if they think they’re doing a good job of hiding it, they’ve got another thing coming. 

About two weeks after they stumble onto the Lion Hawk’s Haven’s stoop, Jin catches Jimin’s hand on the small of Jungkook’s back. It wouldn’t be a  _ thing _ , would have gone by unnoticed unless Jin had seen the tension melt from Jungkook’s shoulders. What seemed like a simple touch to steady another turns into an anchor, a point in space and time. In that touch, Jin sees an entire conversation:  _ Yes? Yes _ . 

Jin blinks, watching Jimin lean over Jungkook’s shoulder to read the recipe card for matcha that Jin had tacked to the wall, watching Jimin’s hand indent Jungkook’s shirt. Neither of them acknowledge the touch. It lasts barely a second. Jin shakes his head. He must be projecting onto them.

The second time Jin pauses to consider the former Fire Nation men, it’s a full week and a half later. Having gotten more comfortable with Jin and Namjoon, the two had finally taken them up on their offer to have dinner upstairs in the apartment. Namjoon sits cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of pan-fried noodles. 

“I’m saying,” he argues, gesticulating wildly with his chopsticks, “that sometimes scalding the tea leaves makes it taste good. Not  _ better _ , and not  _ all _ kinds of tea, but it makes it taste different.” 

“Absolutely the fuck not!” Jin boos from across the table. “That’s something only a heathen with no taste buds would say. Do you even hear yourself, intentionally burning tea leaves! Why did I hire you again?” 

“I didn’t say burn!” Namjoon protests. “Just, y’know, scald them a little, a little hotter than it’s supposed to be.” Silent thus far, Jimin and Jungkook look back and forth between Namjoon and Jin with a mix of confusion and mirth. Not wanting his guests to feel left out, Jin turns to Jimin. 

“What do you think, am I right or is Namjoon the barbarian right?” Ignoring Namjoon’s indignant cry, Jimin bites his lip and smiles down at his empty plate. 

“I think that Namjoon-san’s allowed to have his own tastes-” Jimin’s interrupted by Namjoon’s whoop of excitement and Jin’s shushing, but continues, “but also that Jin-san’s right, tea leaves don’t taste good burnt.” 

“Take that!” Jin tosses his chopsticks onto the table and sits back in self-satisfaction. “Jimin says I’m right!” 

“But if I take Namjoon-san’s side-” interjects Jungkook, speaking up uncharacteristically, “then it would be a tie again.” Namjoon high fives a beet-red Jungkook while Jin gasps in fake offence.

“You wouldn’t go against me, would you Kookie-kun?” Jimin asks, lower lip stretched into a pout. Jungkook shrugs, even as he leans closer to Jimin. 

“You know me, I love to sow the seeds of chaos.” This is the first time Jin thinks he’s seen these two laugh like this. It warms his heart to see the boys having fun, enjoying the company of good food and friends. 

“I knew I could count on you,” Jin says proudly. Jungkook bows deeply. 

“Of course, Jin-sama,” he says in a gravelly voice. Both Jimin and Namjoon immediately choke on laughter. Namjoon is actually crying, gasping for air as he laughs. Jin frowns in confusion, turning up his nose. 

“What, is that a Fire Nation thing? Am I out of the loop on this little joke of yours?” 

“It’s like-” Namjoon’s chest heaves as he tries to speak between his laughter. “It’s like, Jungkook-ah said your name respectfully but sarcastically? Oh man, I wasn’t expecting to hear that here-” 

As they settle down once again, Jin spots Jungkook’s hand on Jimin’s thigh. It’s an unassuming gesture, barely a step up from a hand on the back. Jimin certainly doesn’t react, even with Jungkook’s hand practically wrapped around his thigh. That could translate into two things: either this is entirely platonic and Jimin has no reason to read further into the contact, or the action is so common that Jimin simply doesn’t notice it anymore. Honestly, Jin doesn’t know for sure which it is; he’s just glad they’re both comfortable enough in his home to allow some walls to come down. 

The third time Jin notices something, the two boys notice too. 

It’s late, later than Jin is usually in the Lion Hawk’s Haven. He often leaves the grunt work of closing to Jimin and Jungkook, sometimes Taehyung if the server is still there, preferring to do the billing and paperwork upstairs in the apartment.

But he had gone back downstairs - he’s forgotten by now what exactly he had needed - to the kitchen, and found Jungkook and Jimin standing in a corner of the kitchen, barely visible by lantern light. 

As his eyes adjust, he can see their heads are close together, Jimin’s teeth next to Jungkook’s ear. Their shoulders curl inwards towards each other. Jin thinks he spies one of Jungkook’s hands on Jimin’s waist, much lower than what would be considered a friendly or fleeting touch. There is an intimacy to their posture, the soft murmurs Jin can’t quite catch. 

He doesn’t mean to interrupt, but he can’t help but take a step closer to the pair, causing a rogue floorboard to creak rather abruptly. The two spring apart, eyes wide and hands fluttering in the lantern glow. Jin can’t help but be reminded of the first time he met these two; Jimin afraid, Jungkook angry. 

“We - I - This isn’t -” Half-formed excuses fall from Jimin’s mouth as Jungkook steps in front of him, partly shielding him with his body. If he looked for it, Jin might have been able to see fire beginning in Jungkook’s hands. But he does not look for it, intentionally not looking for anything in their posture than what they present outright. And what Jin sees are two boys in love and running, who have found scarce safety in his home and fear it being ripped away once again. 

Jin holds his hands up in a sign of peace. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry. You can carry on your business.” Jin says calmly. Jungkook’s shoulders stay tense, but there’s an air of optimism when Jimin says, 

“Jungkook and I, you don’t - we just-” Jimin stops and bites his lip, trying to pick his way around the words. Jin waits patiently. “You don’t care?” 

“I think it’s less that I don’t care about the two of you,” Jin says, “and more that I don’t mind whom it is you love. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of your work, which it hasn’t so far, I see no reason for me to have a say in how you behave.” Jungkook looks up at him, young in the dim lighting and hope in his eyes. 

“So this isn’t something we have to, to hide here?” Spirits, he sounds so awfully, horribly hopeful, as if he’s never been allowed to feel hope before. 

“Not here,” Jin says firmly. “Not under my roof.” 

-

Later, Jimin will explain in quiet, small words how the Fire Nation prides their children, their legacies, above all else. How families with fewer children are looked down upon, disregarding circumstances. How homosexual couples were usually left alone, but in the recent surge in nationalism, have come to be seen as a threat to the spreading empire. 

Jin clenches his fist and puts a hand on Jimin’s shoulder and tells him that he’ll make him a cup of tea. Because he cannot stop a cultural stigma by himself, but he can make a mean cup of tea. He can make this place a haven, as safe as possible.

The couple quickly becomes more open with their touches, though always remaining firmly appropriate when there are customers around. Even around Hoseok and Taehyung, who take the news in stride, Jimin and Jungkook eventually open up. It becomes common to see Jimin leaning on Jungkook, his chin on the younger’s shoulder. Or for Jungkook to press a quick, chaste kiss like an afterthought to Jimin’s cheek right between the morning hustle and lunch rush. 

Jin likes it, enjoys the quiet displays of affection. It’s a more tangible reminder that love can exist during such a time, when love is discouraged in the face of pride and greed. And though their unassuming affection hurts Jin’s lonely little lonely heart sometimes, it’s worth it to allow love to grow at all. 

\-----

Hoseok practically adopts the pair on the spot when he finally meets Jungkook and Jimin. 

“You two are adorable!” he screeches, and pinches their cheeks.

Taehyung also takes a liking to them, finding similarity in guys his own age. 

“What’s it like, living in the Fire Nation? Do you guys have different food? Do you have an accent?” 

“Taehyung-ah,” Jin chides, already embarrassed on behalf of Jungkook, but Jungkook is shaking his head with a smile. 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. Yeah, we eat some different things but a lot of it is pretty similar. I guess I have an accent?” Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “It’s more like a dialect than a whole other language. We use different honorifics at least.” 

“That’s so cool!” gushes Taheyung, who has never left the Earth Kingdoms. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook grins shyly. “I guess it is kind of cool.”

“You guys are doing really well here too,” remarks Taehyung as they both continue to wash dishes, Jin bundling up their leftovers. 

“Ah, thanks! I feel like there’s so much left to learn.” 

“Don’t worry,” Taehyung beams, then yawns. “You’ll get your footing soon! And Jin-hyung an’ Namjoon-hyung are super nice.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, glancing over his shoulder, “Yeah Jin-hyung is really nice.” There’s a candle inside Jin’s chest, and it glows warmer, even as Jin gives an exaggerated scowl and goes back to his clean-up. Nice, pssht. He’s not nice. 

\-----

-

Taehyung’s first day is going just  _ great _ . 

“Taehyung! I swear to Hei Bai, if you drop another plate I’m kicking your ass all the way to Serpent’s Pass!” 

Jin’s voice rings bright, clear, and pissed off through the kitchen. Taehyung winces, holding a little tighter to his tray of dirty dishes. A few customers look up, but most of the regulars don’t bat an eye. Folks come to the Lion Hawk’s Haven for the quality tea and baked goods half the time, and for the owner’s charming wit the other half of the time. Jin is a force to be reckoned with, both incredibly generous with his tea and unhesitating in his criticism. 

Taehyung likes his new boss for the most part. He makes working at the bakery fun, and doesn’t let his position as owner go to his head. The other owner, Namjoon, is also pretty nice, either kneading dough in the back or managing the front of house. Speaking of the kitchen, Taehyung walks as fast as he can to the back while keeping his tray steady. Right now, he’s just busing tables but Jin seems optimistic about promoting him to an actual server or baker one day, Spirits forbidding that he breaks another plate and gets fired. 

“Jin-hyung giving you a hard time?” Namjoon asks, standing at the sink with a stack of cups next to him. It’s the lunch rush, and the older man has his sleeves rolled up, elbows deep in soapy water. “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite. It means he cares. He told me once that if the steamed buns weren’t as fluffy as a cloud spirit’s ass, he would fire me on the spot.” Namjoon chuckles while Taehyung laughs nervously. Is this what working in any other bakery and tea shop would be like? Taehyung has a feeling the Kim Seokjin experience is a unique one. 

“Taehyung? Ah, good. A table just cleared out, go ahead and get it ready for someone else.” Jin swans into the kitchen, a million things sticking out of his apron pockets and holding a tray of perfectly balanced tea cups. With practiced ease, he efficiently unloads and reloads his tray with a clean set of cups, filling them all with a precise amount of water from the tea kettle on the stove. “Namjoon-ah, can you put more water on to boil? I have a feeling the rush isn’t over yet.” And with that, he waltzes back out of the kitchen. Taehyung’s mouth hangs open a good inch or so. 

“Sure thing hyung!” Namjoon calls, shaking the soapy water free from his hands. He grins at a still-gaping Taehyung. “Quite a sight, isn’t he? I’m surprised he’s got time to think of comebacks when he’s busy doing a dozen other things, all perfectly of course.” 

“I heard that!” Jin’s voice comes from the lobby. Namjoon chuckles again and fills the kettle, putting it on to boil. 

“Has he always been like this?” Taheyung asks, finally getting around to unloading his own tray. Namjoon shrugs. 

“He’s always been quick-witted, but his talent with a tea tray comes from lots and lots of practice. When it was just us two, I was in the kitchen and busing tables, and Jin was the front of house and waiter. Made most days pretty busy.” Namjoon thrusts his hands back into the full sink, barely missing Taehyung’s sleeve with a tidal wave of dish water. Taehyung dodges and slips around Namjoon to grab the container of dasik, shaking a few colorful cookies onto a plate. 

“And that’s why you hired me?” Taehyung asks. 

“For the most part. Jin and I decided a few extra hands couldn’t hurt, we could afford one or two part time workers, seeing how that went over.” 

“How am I doing so far?” Taehyung pauses on his way out of the kitchen. Namjoon gives him a sudsy thumbs up. 

“I’d say pretty good, but that might change if you don’t get out there and help Jin-hyung.” 

“Right!” Taehyung yelps, dashing into the lobby. Namjoon shakes his head, smiling at his own reflection in the sink. 

-

\------

-

Hoseok’s first day goes a little smoother. 

“Good morning!” Hoseok calls to the figure sleepily trying to open the doors to the bakery. He assumes this is the second owner, the one he hasn’t met yet. Kim Namjoon-ssi was the one to interview him initially, though he had mentioned a co-owner. Namjoon had given him a dimpled smile with a time and a date, and here Hoseok is, right on time. He beams at the man, who blinks sleepily at him. 

“Who are you?” the man grumbles. Hoseok tries his best not to be off-put by the man’s lack of enthusiasm. 

“Jung Hoseok!” he chirps. The man just blinks again, before his eyes light in exhausted recognition. 

“Ah. The man Namjoon-ah hired.” The man offers a hand. “Kim Seokjin, co-owner of the Lion Hawk’s Haven.” 

“Nice to meet you. What can I do to help with opening?” Seokjin seems a little taken aback by just how keen Hoseok is this early in the morning; to be fair, the sun is just rising over the mountains, early spring making its tentative greeting. 

“Take the chairs off the tables and set out the little plates of candles and candies - you’ll see them just behind the kitchen door, open all the shutters,” Jin lists smoothly, even as he yawns. He finally gets the doors unlocked and leads Hoseok into the dark interior, walking unhesitatingly among the dark shapes of tables. Hoseok walks a little slower, taking in the place he’ll be hopefully employed at for a good long while. 

“Anything else?” Hoseok asks as Jin takes him into the kitchen, kneeling down by the oven to stir the coals from last night. 

“Come find me when the lobby looks presentable. I’ll be starting on the bread for today, when the lobby’s done you can start the hotteok. Have you made hotteok before?” For looking as sleepy as he does, Jin moves with startling speed and competency, pulling out a tray of dough that had been proofing overnight. 

“You can count on me, Jin-ssi!” Hoseok spins to go open the lobby, missing Jin’s incredulous look aimed at his back. 

“Call me hyung!” he hears Jin holler through the kitchen door. 

By the time Hoseok has all the chairs on the floor and little dishes of candles at each table, the sun is shining through the shutter’s blinds. Hoseok pulls them open, smiling at the quickly-filling street. He loves the sounds of the world waking up, the feeling of sunlight opening each delicate flower of his plants in his garden. He’s heard firebenders are known to rise with the sun, but Hoseok can’t see the sun as anything but a sister of the earth, a source of life for earthbenders too. 

Satisfied with the lobby, he ducks his head back into the kitchen, where the tempting smell of baking bread grows stronger by the moment. 

“So, hotteok?” It’s an innocent question, but Jin, bent over a counter full of pastries, jumps about a foot in the air. 

“Spirits almighty Hoseok, I just about stabbed myself with this spatula!” 

“Oh, sorry!” Jin clutches his chest with one hand and points towards a bowl set aside. 

“There’s some base dough set aside there, the stuff for the filling is in that upper cabinet up there. Two scoops of nuts for every one scoop of cinnamon, and a half cup of sugar.” Hoseok busies himself with fetching the ingredients, working smoothly in the small space with Jin. 

“I used to watch my mom make hotteok on the weekends, for my sister and I,” he says, digging around in a drawer for a measuring cup. “I think she made it with cheese once, but it wasn’t as good as the sweet kind.” 

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Jin asks, his voice light and free of annoyance.

“Only most days,” Hoseok responds cheerfully. Jin sighs dramatically. 

“Well, guess the shop will have to get used to having two suns at the window.” Hoseok looks at Jin, who has a faint smile on his face, the first smile Hoseok’s seen him wear. 

Yes, this place could be a home, if he sticks around. 

-

\-----

“You had a bending tutor?” Jungkook leans forward, his forgotten cup clutched in his hands. 

“I did for a few years,” Namjoon admits, taking a leisurely sip from his own cup. It’s the hottest time of day, when even hot tea is too much. Namjoon and Jungkook stand on the porch just outside the backdoor, in the shade of the stairs, and sip cool water with lemon slices. “My parents weren’t rich, but I was the first firebending child they had. They wanted the best for me, so I had a tutor for a little while when I was in school.” 

“Did you learn how to fight and stuff? And how to breathe fire and shoot lightning-” 

“Woah woah,” Namjoon chuckles, holding up a hand. “Nothing crazy like that. Just enough to control my fire, a few tricks and stances. I’d say I’m pretty good, but no master. I know enough for my lifestyle.” 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s disappointment is temporary. “Do you think you could teach me? Even just a little? My uncle taught me a little, but not a lot. I’m still not great with control.” To emphasize his point, Jungkook pushes a flat palm upwards and summons a small burst of short-lived fire. It licks for a second at the wooden steps of the stairs above their heads, and Jungkook immediately pulls his hand back sheepishly. Namjoon shakes his head. 

“Well, there’s control and there’s awareness of one’s surroundings. I think a little of both could go a long way.” He takes another sip.

“Is that a yes?” Jungkook looks so hopeful, Namjoon hates what he has to say next.

“I’m sorry Jungkook, but I can’t teach you.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t use my fire much these days, and for good reason.” Namjoon looks over their tiny backyard and the city beyond, the rooftops and sloping sandstone that make up the forest of this neighborhood. Somewhere, a rooster cries triumphantly, repeatedly. “I don’t feel like I’d be a very good teacher in the first place. And it would attract far too much attention. The war may feel distant from Gaoling, but we’re only a scared man away from bringing the whole city down on us.”

“Taehyung and Hoseok bend all the time,” Jungkook mutters, “and I know that’s different because they’re earthbenders but it doesn’t seem very fair at all.” 

“I know, buddy.”

“And I don’t understand why everyone thinks all firebenders are evil! I mean, I understand but I don’t agree. Hyung, you could prove them wrong! The regulars love you, you could show them that some firebenders are good people!” 

“Jungkook I can’t-” Namjoon cuts himself with a frustrated sigh, rubbing a cool hand on his forehead. “I can’t change people’s minds when there’s a war being fought, when their family members are dying at the hands of people like us. I cannot represent an entire colonizing nation, I’m only one man.” 

“I could help, please I think we should-”

“I said no.” Namjoon’s voice is sharp, cutting cleanly through Jungkook’s words. It’s not a cruel action, rather an amputation of a hope that will go nowhere. Jungkook freezes in the noon sun, curling in on himself. Shit. 

“It’s just not a good idea for many reasons. I’m not saying you should feel ashamed of who you are or your bending, or that you should never bend here. But I don’t think lessons in the backyard will help anyone.” He puts a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. The kid looks like he wants to argue, but keeps his mouth shut.

“I get it. Thanks anyways.” Jungkook shrugs off Namjoon’s hand and steps back into the kitchen. He lets him go without a word, allowing Jungkook the space he needs. The rooster nearby crows again. Namjoon sighs again, looking into his empty cup. 

He’s telling most of the truth. It’s probably not a good idea to practice firebending in the backyard, where any of their neighbors can see them. It’s no secret around the street that Namjoon is a firebender, but it’s one thing to know and another thing entirely to see it for yourself. 

But there could be alternatives. They could go to the outskirts of the city. Namjoon could teach Jungkook the very basics of breath and meditation right on this very porch, no hiding necessary. And even if they were to get caught, so to speak, Namjoon hardly thinks it would draw a riot to the bakery like he had implied to Jungkook.

No, it’s only most of the truth. 

Because the rest of the truth is, it’s been a while since Namjoon has used his bending to do more than stoke the coals of the oven or light a lamp. Even before the war, it wasn’t like Namjoon was throwing fiery punches and kicks every day. 

In fact, as soon as the first murmurings of unrest from the Fire Nation came, Namjoon had locked away some part of himself that had been longing to let loose. It just wasn’t feasible anymore, and it had been so long anyways. He could wrap this part of himself up in red, set it on the shelf next to his childhood memories. He can let the muscle atrophy in exchange for a tentative peace. 

There’s an even smaller, quieter part of himself that never wants to bend fire again. A thousand air nomads dead, and here he was, allowing the same fire to stem from his very palms.  _ Let it die _ , that dark part of him whispers.  _ If you leave it alone, you will simply forget how to bend. You will forget this unfounded guilt. You will not be to blame _ . 

There is a difference in knowing something and believing it. Namjoon knows he’s at no fault for the choices of a tyrannical firelord, but he can’t quite let go of the shame that keeps the flames from tickling his fingertips. These days, it’s difficult to summon more than what’s needed to heat the ovens. 

And Jungkook doesn’t carry that yet, has too much on his shoulders to take on another burden from his birthright. Namjoon will not teach him, cannot teach him, in a way that doesn’t stink of the awful guilt he carries. He has locked away that part of himself for everyone’s safety and comfort, and even Jungkook’s youthful hope cannot unlock it. 

Namjoon looks up over the neighborhood, the clay shingles on the roofs, the sound of children playing in the alleyways not torn by fire and war. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, then shuffles back inside the kitchen to attend to their patrons. The rooster crows, and the lock clicks back into place, and the sun continues to shine on safe streets.

It’s long into the night when it comes up again. 

The heat of the day has begun to carry over into the night, persuading Namjoon and Jin to sleep with the windows open to the evening breeze. The sun has set long ago, and the pair are playing cards by the window, several candles lighting their game. Jin throws down a  _ gabo _ hand made from a bright March card and a junk June card. Namjoon scrunches up his nose as his own 5 point clean hand. He never did have a good poker face. 

“Jungkook was quiet today, during after-lunch prep,” Jin remarks offhandedly, collecting the pile of woodchips they’ve been using as betting chips. “Did you think so?”

If there’s one thing Namjoon fears the most behind these safe walls, it’s Jin’s terrifying perception skills, as well as passive aggression. He proceeds to tread with caution in this conversation. 

“He seemed a little off, yeah.” Namjoon shuffles the hwatu cards carefully. This deck is already worn, most of the edges bent from many, many games over the years. They were Jin’s grandmother’s originally, and Jin always said he got both his best and worst traits from his grandmother. If Jin’s grandmother is half as scary as him, Namjoon’s a little glad there’s a slim chance he’ll ever meet the Kim matriarch. 

“It was right after you two went outside, right? Did he mention anything to you?” Jin takes his two cards from Namjoon and scrutinizes them. Though his questions seem innocent, Namjoon knows that Jin sees all and he protects his own, particularly their youngest. Time to confess. 

“He wanted me to teach him firebending. I said no.” Namjoon draws two of his own cards and looks them over. Damn, it’s only an  _ dogsa _ hand, just five points again. 

“Why did you turn him down? He could benefit from a mentor.” Jin’s tone is thankfully judgement free, something Namjoon has always appreciated about the man. 

“I don’t think I’d be a very good teacher,” Namjoon sighs, pushing forward some of his chips. 

“Nonsense,” Jin waves away his excuse, adding a sizable bet of his own. “You taught him how to mix matcha powder and knead dough, and he’s hardly failed at that. How can this be much different?” 

“It’s different and you know it.” Namjoon studies Jin’s bet. The man is an excellent bluffer, and bets high most turns. Could this be a chance he’s caught Jin with a lower hand? Lower than his five points though...

“Why? Because he’s never been told he’s evil incarnate for making bread?” Jin raises an eyebrow, flipping his cards back and forth in his hand. Namjoon rolls his eyes and tosses several more chips into the pot. “You two were born this way, Joon.”

“I can’t be that for him, hyung.” At the same time, they reveal their pairs flat on the floor. Namjoon raises an eyebrow in surprise at Jin’s three points. Jin shrugs. Namjoon pulls the pot towards himself. “He wants something from me that I can’t give.” 

“Do you think,” Jin wonders aloud as he deals the next hand, “that this could be good for you as well as him? Maybe you could let go of some of your guilt.” Namjoon freezes where he had been sorting his pile of woodchips, his backbone frozen and facing away from the candlelight that lights Jin’s concerned face. 

“I don’t…” Namjoon folds his hands in his lap, suddenly cold in the warm summer air. “I’m not ashamed.” He doesn’t even read the cards he has in his lap. 

“No,” Jin agrees, “You’ve got plenty of pride. But you feel responsible for things, things outside of your control. How do you think Jungkook-ah feels, being away from his family in the middle of this war? What do you think he needs?” 

“Why do I need to be what he needs? I’m only a man, I can’t be everywhere at once!” The words burst out of him like the plum flowers on his February card, blooming all of the things he’d rather hide.

It’s so easy, so much better, to hide all this behind a busy day on his feet and working with his hands. It’s so much simpler to pack it away when he’s focused on everyone else. And now, in the familiar dim bedroom, this game of wagering fate and Jin’s focused digging is pulling all the feelings he doesn’t want to feel. Through the window, the night smells like cedar smoke and soil, like it might rain soon.

“No,” Jin agrees again, softer this time, “you can’t be everywhere at once. Be here.” He places a hand on Namjoon’s knee. “Start small. Be as small as you need, and work outwards. Teach him it’s okay to be scared and ashamed. Start there.” 

“I…” Namjoon exhales, feeling the warm weight of Jin’s hand and not wanting to pull away, despite the hot night. He wants to teach Jungkook so many things, to allow him the space to remember his childhood without guilt. He wants a lot of things. “I’ll think about it.” 

“How about this,” Jin offers. “If I win this next hand, you teach Jungkook control, at the very least, starting small. If you win, you can go back to hiding in your turtle shell, old man.” Namjoon looks up to see Jin’s cautious smile. 

“Sounds fair.” They’ve been pushing and pulling their fortune all evening, what’s one more bet? Besides, Namjoon won last time, which means he’s on a streak, right? His own hand,  _ mangtong _ , February and August equaling ten points, isn’t a small number to contend with. “Alright, show.”

Jin reveals his cards, smiling with his teeth as he shows off both the bright cards of March and August, the highest hand possible. Namjoon’s mouth drops open. 

“You bastard! You knew you had the highest hand before you even bet!” 

“That’s how it is, Joon-ah. You win some, lose some, and get something better in return.” Jin collects the cards and gives Namjoon a pointed look. “Now you owe a debt, and I expect you’ll be paying it soon.” 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Namjoon acquiesces, glaring down at his larger pile of woodchips. He might have won the battle, but Jin has won the war, as always. “Why do I play you again?” 

“Because you love to see my lovely face act just for your enjoyment,” Jin sniffs, placing the cards back in their box. He treats them gently, with quick but light fingers. Namjoon thinks about grandmothers and stubbornness and thinks he too would treat the hwatu cards with respect if they were his own. 

\-----

-

Kim Seokjin the nonbender had never been very special. 

As a child, he had placed average in his classes. His parents were middle class business owners, neither rich nor poor, the youngest overshadowed by his older siblings with the ability to earth bend. He had received some romantic attention, but not a notable amount. He was a hard worker, but not enough to warrant more praise than the average citizen.

Good but not good enough.

As Jin got older, he became content with being ordinary. He had his own passions of course, for baking and cooking, but did not look to fulfill them. Dreams were for the extraordinary, the world-shakers. And even as he could feel the subtle tremors of change, the ominous rumble of war on the horizon, he kept to his corner of the world. 

War and peace, idealism, was for benders. Ambition was for those with power to begin with. What could little, powerless, ordinary Seokjin do to affect change in a world of earth shakers? How could someone with no bloodthirst ever hope to change anything?

And then he met Namjoon. 

The man had stumbled into the shop where Jin had been working, covered in dust and a bright smile on his face. Jin had rung up his purchases, watched him walk out the door, and promptly forgot about the man in earthy reds and oranges. 

Two days later, the man was back, this time free of dust but retaining that same grin. Once again, Jin rang up the odd bits and ends he purchased and only remembered a vague man with dimples. 

But not even a day had passed before the man is back in the store when Jin’s behind the counter. This time, Jin remembers. 

“Do you really need this much stuff?” Jin inquired, holding up the package of chili-flavored senbei. The man smiled sheepishly, handing over a few coins. Jin hadn’t pushed the issue; it really wasn’t his business, and he certainly wasn’t paid well enough to care about the spending habits of strange guys who wandered into the store. The man left, and that night Jin thought about dimples and red clay before he went to sleep. 

The fourth time, Jin crossed his arms in bemusement. The man just looked on expectantly, hopefully.

“I didn’t know corner stores could have regulars,” Jin said, raising an eyebrow. The man shrugged. 

“Maybe I live close by.” 

“If so, I worry about what you’re eating. You should buy real food from the market instead of the snacks we have.” Again, Jin certainly does not get paid enough to not endorse another store. The man snorted in laughter, looking away. Nonetheless, Jin tallied up the total price. As he handed the man his change, the man said, 

“My name’s Namjoon.” 

“...Okay, thank you?” Jin really doesn’t know where this is going. 

“I was wondering…” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck, “If you would want to get drinks with me sometime? So I don’t have to keep buying crackers and stuff?” 

It takes a few seconds, but when it clicks Jin’s mouth falls open. 

“You’ve been coming in here because you want to see me!” It’s a statement, not a question. Namjoon laughs in embarrassment, cheeks flushing red around his dimples. 

“I thought you figured it out sooner, to be honest.” 

“Look, if I thought every scruffy student that wandered in here for senbei was secretly in love with me, my ego would be the size of Gaoling,” Jin retorts before his words catch up to him, “Er, not to say you’re in love with me or anything, I just meant-” 

“It’s fine,” Namjoon waves. Now that Jin’s truly paying attention, he finds he quite likes the shape of Namjoon's smile, the slope of his shoulders. “So? Drinks?”

“...I get off at six,” Jin answers, his ears already red. “I’ll meet you at the tea shop down the street? By the cabbage cart guy?” 

“Sounds good!” Namjoon’s excitement is palpable, stirring a flurry of flaming butterflies in Jin’s stomach. Has anyone ever been so excited to meet up with ordinary Kim Seokjin? “I’ll see you then!” As soon as he walks out the door with his snacks, Jin collapses in a tomato-red heap onto the counter. 

“Did I just agree to go on a date with a customer?” he asks himself in embarrassed disbelief. 

“You sure did,” says a new voice from his left. Jin whips his head up to see a stranger standing at the counter, holding several seed packets in his hands. 

“Did you hear all of that?” Jin asks, afraid of the answer. The man nods and Jin groans, letting his head fall back down to the counter. “Spirits, please let me die in a hole. Right now. Just bury me.” 

“But then you’d miss your date!” chirps the stranger. Jin groans again. 

The earth does not swallow Jin in a spontaneous sinkhole. The sun is just beginning to ponder setting when Jin makes his way down the street, taking in the familiar sounds of the neighborhood at night. He’s not exactly sure what tonight will bring, but he’s got a good feeling, a rising curiosity colored rose and tangerine. The promise of the night, under the cover of darkness. Or some other poetic bullshit, Jin’s by no means a poet. Ordinary Seokjin, remember?

True to his word, Namjoon is there by the cabbage cart, hands in his pockets. He waves when he sees Jin. 

“Hey! Thanks for coming!” He’s changed out of his soot-stained tunic and slicked back his hair. Jin looks down at his own work-worn shirt and work shoes. Well, this is what he’s working with now. 

“Of course.” Jin gestures with his head towards the tea shop. “Wanna go in?” 

“Oh! Yeah, let’s go in.” Namjoon holds the door open for him, which Jin finds charming but also a little strange. It’s not something people do around here a lot.

Inside, the walls are made of dark wood, and little candles cluster together on each table. They find a table near the back, where they can see the rest of the shop. After ordering, they sit in silence, staring at one another. 

“So…” Namjoon twists his hands on the table. “Come here often?” 

“You did  _ not _ just say that to me,” Jin snorts incredulously. Namjoon just shrugs. 

“It’s a real question! Do you come to this tea shop often?” 

“Sometimes,” Jin leans his elbows on the table, looking around the dimly lit room. “The tea is only okay most of the time, but the servers are too nice for me to say anything negative.” 

“A real tea connoisseur, are you?” Namjoon looks genuinely invested in Jin’s interest in tea. It’s kind of refreshing. 

“I have taste, that’s all. What about you, what’re your hobbies? What’s your job?” 

“I’m at a pottery studio,” Namjoon hums, poking at one of the candles on the table, making the flame waver. “I guess my hobbies are pretty different from my job. I like to bake, but I haven’t been able to make a career out of it yet.” 

“Yeah? Me too,” Jin admits. He knows what it’s like to have a passion with no outlet. Good but not good enough. A kind server arrives with their tea at that moment, and the conversation is derailed as they both take their first sips. 

“Ah-” swallows Namjoon, “you were right. This tea is okay at best.” 

“It’s too hot for the leaves, they’re too delicate,” Jin complains. 

“You know more about tea than I do.” Namjoon sets down his cup gently. “Ever think about opening a tea shop?” 

“What? No way.” Jin scoffs and sets his own cup down as well, looking out at the rest of the cafe. “First of all, you don’t even know me. Second of all, how? With what money? I work at that shitty corner store for a reason, I’m practically broke. Third of all-” he stops and sighs. He is, more than anything, tired. Of arguing, of proving his point, of blending into the background.

“When I first saw you,” Namjoon says in a low voice, with a smile that reaches his eyes, “I saw someone who wanted something more from life. To build something from the ground up. Why else would someone like you, with a fire in their eyes, work at a shitty corner store?”

“Hey, only I’m allowed to complain about my hell-job, not you,” Jin sniffs, looking down at his cup. Namjoon continues.

“I saw a lot of myself in you. That’s why I kept coming back. Also that you’re cute is a bonus. But really, what’re we waiting for? A sign from the spirits? Why do we hold back our dreams?”

“Are you always this forward with strangers you take on dates?” Jin mutters into his cup. Namjoon tilts his head, refusing to look Jin in the eye. 

“Nah, just you.” 

“Why...me? Why all this?” 

“I...I’ve had to run before. From things in my life, places that were growing hostile to love and other things I consider essential. And I’m tired of it, aren’t you?” Namjoon looks so earnest and spirits, Jin is  _ exhausted  _ as well. “I just want to build something permanent in this world. And you seem like someone who wants to do the same.”

Jin doesn’t respond for a long moment, sipping his lukewarm tea. Namjoon doesn’t push, allowing the conversation to sink into the tabletop like tea leaves settling to the bottom of a cup. 

“Namjoon,” Jin starts, at long last, “I am the most ordinary, unremarkable person you have probably ever met, and you’ve met the cabbage cart guy. I can’t bend. I’m not very rich, or powerful, or charismatic, or ambitious. Even if I wanted to build something, what could I make? The world is changing day by day and I’m...here.

“Namjoon, I don’t want to kill anyone.” These last words are spoken quiet, blending into the monotonous sounds of clinking porcelain and scraping chairs, as much a part of this world as any physical object. 

“Maybe…” Namjoon leans forward, eyes alight by an inner glow, a fervor within. “Maybe you’re thinking about it wrong. Maybe a lack of the desire to kill for change, a want for pacifism, isn’t a sign you don’t have the ambition or desire to change anything at all. Maybe you can fan the flames your own way, with compassion instead of righteous rage.” 

And Jin had felt the bell strike midnight inside his ribcage, a reverberation down to the soles of his feet. The soil under his shoes wasn’t fixed, wasn’t soaked through just yet. There was still work that could be done, a cultivation that could still yield something green and strong. 

That he may be ordinary, but that does not mean his actions cannot be extraordinary. 

“And how,” Jin murmurs, still processing the aftershocks of this realization, “do you know that? How do you know there’s more to this world than a struggle for power? What have you changed, or seen changed through any kind of compassion?” 

“I’ve been running,” Namjoon repeats. “I’ve been running for a long time. And even after living in this city for several years, I don’t feel like I’ve found a place that’s made me want to stay. And I’ve seen...awful things. Things that could have convinced me compassion simply didn’t exist, not anymore. I’ve felt shame and guilt and rage. And yet at the end of the day, I return to myself and cannot find it in me to extinguish my hope. The most simple, powerful compassion I’ve seen has been how I’ve learned to treat myself.” 

“Poignant, but self-centric,” points out Jin, not wanting to admit the grace in Namjoon’s words, the way they twist around Jin’s own mind. “Namjoon, where exactly did you live, before Gaoling?” He has a sinking suspicion, one he’s not sure he wants proven right. 

Namjoon, for the first time, looks uncertain but pushes forward with a resolve Jin is learning is characteristic for the man. 

“I’ve lived in the Earth Kingdoms for a long time now, but I’m from the Fire Nation. I’m a firebender.” To emphasize his point, or maybe just dig himself into a deeper grave, Namjoon carefully cups a palm and offers Jin a small bundle of flames, barely the size of his teacup. Jin very intentionally does not react. 

“That would explain things,” he nods. “And you left because…?” 

“Because I couldn’t be complicit in the growing aggression.” Namjoon’s smile is more like baring his teeth. “I saw where things were going, I tried to warn people but. They didn’t want to believe me. They didn’t want to believe they were only ordinary. I couldn’t turn on people I knew, people that didn’t deserve hatred, so I left my hometown about two or three years ago.”

“That was brave of you,” Jin remarks, draining the last of his tea. 

“Yeah well,” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, “I dunno if it was brave or cowardly. But here I am now.” He sounds like he’s made his peace, however sadly, with it. There is another long moment of silence, where Namjoon drinks his tea and Jin steeps over their conversation. He thinks about being ordinary. About love and war and love in a war and what home is.

“Well,” Jin clears his throat and folds his arms across his chest. “If you can leave your home for something you believe in, then I guess I can pick a dream to chase. But only if you do it too.” Namjoon smiles, and this smile is different from the way he’s smiled at Jin before.

“Yeah? What’re we building?”

“A bakery,” Jin tells him firmly. “One that serves better tea than this place. But more importantly, a home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The card game Jin and Namjoon are playing is called seotda, and Jin plays one of the card hand referenced in the Ddaeng song lyrics, 38 (sam-pal). I got all my seotda and hwatu card knowledge from this source: http://moonrabbithanafuda.weebly.com/seotda.html
> 
> This first chapter is pretty jungkook/jimin centric, I promise all seven get their moment in the future chapters, including Yoonji!
> 
> Speaking of which, this fic will update weekly!
> 
> Comments/kudos are always, always appreciated. Tell me what you think!
> 
> Find me on Twitter and get update notifications at https://twitter.com/sunstarsseokjin


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Sweethearts!
> 
> I was up far too late last night possessed by an idea, but here's the next chapter, right on time!
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for a panic attack, just skip the section that starts "Sometimes, the war is not visible from the surface." You can skip all the way til the next set of dashes. Im happy to give a non-explicit recap for folks over on my Twitter or in the comments, so please reach out! Be safe!
> 
> Happy Reading!

“Jimin?” 

“Hm?” The man’s answer is little more than a hum, his nose still buried in his needle and thread. The road hasn’t been kind to either of their clothes, and now Jimin finally has time to fix all the holes that have gathered in the knees of their pants. 

“Do you think Jin would let us celebrate the Fire Lily Festival this year?” At Jungkook’s hopeful tone, Jimin sets down his darning. His jaw is tense, but his eyes are unbearably gentle. 

“Jungkook...Maybe we shouldn’t celebrate this year.” 

“Why not? You love the Fire Lily Festival.” Jungkook’s bottom lip sticks out just a little, a small pink reminder of just how young he really is. Jimin, not much older himself, sighs and scoots closer to him. 

“I know, I do, but. We’re not in the Fire Nation anymore. I’m not sure people celebrate it here.” 

“Joon-san would know about it!” Jungkook defends stubbornly. “I think we should celebrate something good, after traveling for so long and having so little to celebrate.” 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Jimin’s hiding something, Jungkook knows it. 

“Because it’s too frivolous? Jimin, we’ve got enough of money to spend on a little-”

“Because it’s too much like home!” Jimin interrupts, biting his lip hard. “It’s too much of a Fire Nation thing, and people barely tolerate us here as it is. It’s not safe.” 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, face turned away from Jimin. The early afternoon catches on his nose, hangs off his ears, and Jimin’s heart drowns again, sinking into his chest. 

He would give the boy anything, everything if he could. Jungkook deserves a full stomach and smile lines and shoes without holes and the Fire Lily Festival. Jimin works his damn hardest to get Jungkook all and more, but such a public affair like a Fire Nation holiday? 

Jimin would do anything to give Jungkook the world, but he would die to keep Jungkook safe. Even if Jungkook hates him for it. 

“Kookie-kun…” His darning lies forgotten. How can he mend cloth when he has to sew up himself and Jungkook?

“No,” Jungkook says. “I get it.” He gets up from his spot on the floor next to Jimin, where he had been absently toying with Jimin’s darning scraps. Jimin watches his shoulders disappear through the narrow door that leads to the main room from their bedroom. He’s most likely gone for a walk, perhaps through Hoseok’s garden. Sighing once more, Jimin picks up his needle and thread, but can’t find it in himself to continue his chores. 

He’s not worried about Jungkook never coming back. They’ve been forged together, linked forever in a way that a simple disagreement can’t separate them anymore. No, it’s not Jungkook leaving that breaks Jimin’s heart. It’s the thought of Jungkook forgetting about the good parts of life, forgetting things like Fire Lily Festivals can and should exist. 

\------

-

“Hi Kookie-kun!” 

“I wanna get dango! Please!” Pulling his red headband out of his eyes, Jungkook beams up at Jimin. The older boy smiles down at his friend, tugging him along. 

“We will, promise, Oka-san gave me some money for festival food.” Jimin’s just on the cusp of being too old to ask his parents for money for sweet treats, but he’d swallow his shame any day for Jungkook. 

“Can we cross the bridge and look at the fish too? And go see the shrine? And-” Jungkook is practically bouncing with excitement, nearly bouncing right into fellow festival-goers along the crowded street. 

“Yea, yea, sure,” Jimin agrees absently, scanning the crowd. It’s the first year they’ve been allowed to run around the street vendor alley without supervision, and Jimin doesn’t want to waste a second of newfound freedom. He holds tight to Jungkook’s hand and presses on, into the cluster of music and smells around the crimson-draped booths.

Jungkook continues a steady stream of observations, eyes wide. One would think it was his first Fire Lily Festival with the way he stares in awe at the trays of yawata maki, the sizzling griddles of takoyaki, and the fluttering red banners that cover every awning. Jimin knows Jungkook loves holidays, the Fire Lily Festival in particular, but the younger seems especially excited this year. 

Finding an alley that can serve as a shortcut, Jimin leads them both away from the bustle of the vendors and toward the gardens. He wants to see the new blossoms before the majority of the crowd makes their way to the garden. He wants to see the wonder in Jungkook’s face without the distraction of a hundred other people. 

Jimin supposes Jungkook’s a bit too old for Jimin to dote on him like he does, but he can’t find the shame in him for that either. Jungkook’s wonder has always been a breath of fresh air, the steam off a bowl of udon on a really cold day. He will never be too old to grow tired of his friend’s amazement.

“-I tried doing a handstand and breathe fire, but all I did was cough some smoke up and my mom says that’s okay because I’m not very old yet but I saw this one guy do this thing- Oh.” Jungkook stops abruptly, taking in their location for the first time since Jimin took his hand. It’s quiet here, far from the busy streets. The spring air is refreshing in his lungs. Jungkook stoops low to brush a hand over a new fire lily blossom, the gentlest kiss with his fingertips. Jimin’s heart swells, sending a rush of blood to his ears. 

“I found this path a week ago,” Jimin admits, scratching the back of his head. “It takes you the long way around the back of the fields, so not a lot of people go this way. I thought it might be a better way to see the lilies.” Jungkook still hasn’t said anything, staring out over the crimson rows of flowers. Jimin’s nerves almost get the better of him as he suppresses the sudden urge to lash out and stomp on a delicate flower. 

“I love it!” Jungkook exclaims, abruptly breaking through Jimin’s inner conflict. “You can see the whole field from here, without having to push past people! Jimin, I love fire lilies, I love-” Jungkook cuts himself off, looking down at his feet. Jimin feels his swollen heart beat in his chest, all the blood from his cheeks making a lump in his throat. 

“You what?” 

“I...love you.” Jungkook scuffs his foot in the soil. “I wanted to tell you this year during the festival, because fire lilies represent passion and love and stuff. But I was gonna do it later. I had a plan!” And now he finally looks back up at Jimin, familiar indignation in his eyes and something like hope, like an unfurling blossom. 

“Kookie-kun I, I love you too.” And Jimin hadn’t planned on telling Jungkook today or ever, hadn’t given any thought to some perfect confession. But now, standing in the early spring sunshine, standing in a sea of fiery flowers, Jimin realizes he couldn’t have planned anything better. And his own wonder and discovery is just as sweet as Jungkook’s hand in his, love growing red, red, red.

-

\------

As expected, Hoseok finds Jungkook sitting next to the white dragon bushes, tracing the white streaks on the petals with a finger. Hoseok feels a part of himself soften at the sight, slowing down his pace to quiet his approach. If he is aware of Hoseok’s steps, Jungkook doesn’t look up from his intense study of the reddish-pink flowers.

“You know, they say white dragon tea tastes like heartbreak,” Hoseok comments, letting his sandals scuff the dust near Jungkook’s knee. The boy still doesn’t look up. Hoseok crouches down, taking a seat across from the little clump of bushes. “It’s easy to mistake them for the white jade bush, which is poisonous, but I don’t grow any in my tea garden for obvious reasons so you should be fine.” 

A bumblebee floats past, lazy in the afternoon heat. Hoseok closes his eyes and soaks up the sun, waiting patiently. Here in his garden, he can feel all the roots beneath his feet interwoven like a safety net, like a web of comforting life. Despite Jungkook being a firebender, Hoseok likes to think the kid can feel some of that life as well, seeking comfort from the rhythmic growth of the flora. 

“Have you ever had hanami dango?” Jungkook’s voice blends into the hum of the insects, eyes still trained on the white dragon flower. Hoseok shakes his head. “It’s these little balls of sweet rice dough on a stick. They’re all different colors. We - I mean Jimin and I - we usually eat them around this time of year at the Fire Lily Festival.” 

“What’s different about this year?” Hoseok figures there’s no point dancing around the issue. Earthbenders don’t like to beat around the bush. Here Jungkook is, in his garden. Here Hoseok is, offering comfort. What more is there to dance around?

“Jimin doesn’t think we should celebrate the Fire Lily Festival here in the Earth Kingdom,” Jungkook murmurs, more sad than frustrated. “He says it’s not safe, that people will think we’re Fire Nation sympathizers. That people already barely tolerate us here.” 

“There are people who want you here as well, Jungkookie,” remarks Hoseok. “Not just tolerate.” 

“I know,” says Jungkook, tracing the petals in a way that makes Hoseok think he’s not convinced. 

“What do you do at a Fire Lily Festival?” 

“We eat lots of different food,” shrugs Jungkook. “There’s usually a street carnival, and we watch the fire lilies bloom. They’re supposed to symbolize passion so, uh, people also confess around the festival too.” 

“Fire lilies sound a little like panda lilies here.” Hoseok smiles as Jungkook’s head shoots up. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Hoseok leans forward to pluck a white dragon flower from the bush, examining the pollen coating the inside. It’s still a little green, not fully bloomed. “Earth Kingdom traditions aren’t so different from Fire Nation ones, I think.” 

“It feels really different,” Jungkook complains. “I mean, not the regular day-to-day stuff. But just how people act. I feel like there’s a different set of rules, and I can’t tell if I’m winning or losing.”

“Do you have to win or lose?” Hoseok twirls the stem of the flower between his index finger and thumb. Jungkook fixes him with a look. “Hey, I’m just asking.” 

“You know what I mean.” Jungkook tucks his knees up to his chest. “Things are just different. I like it here with you guys, I do, but…” 

“It’s strange,” Hoseok fills in the blank. Jungkook nods. 

“It’s not home.”

There is silence for a while after, both of them soaking up the sun. Hoseok listens to the bees work steadily among his plants, at home in the soil as much as any other shrub. Jungkook continues his quiet meditation, brow furrowed. But he grows restless after a while, not as used to a life in the dirt as Hoseok is. Sensing this, Hoseok stands and offers Jungkook a hand. 

“C’mon, I think Jin-hyung might need some help with dinner. Wanna help peel potatoes?” Jungkook dusts off his palms and takes Hoseok’s hand. The kid looks much more at peace than before. Spirits, when did he get so tall? 

“Yea, let’s help Jin-san.” 

\-----

A day or so later, Jungkook is huffing and puffing his way down the street, a couple sacks of flour in his arms. He lets himself in the backdoor of the Lion Hawk’s Haven, setting down his heavy load next to the oven. The kitchen is empty for once, but he can hear the echo of voices in the main room. He takes a moment to stretch his back and arms. Who knew working at a bakery could include so much manual labor?

When no one pokes their head through the door to the kitchen, Jungkook’s curiosity gets the better of him. Usually, in this house, he can’t go three seconds without someone checking in or giving him a task. He pushes his way through the doors into the main seating area. 

The first thing he sees is Jimin’s wobbly smile. They’ve long since made up from the tension the other day, sleeping in the same bed that very night. But there’s something in Jimin’s eyes like an apology all the same. 

The second thing he sees is the plate in Jimin’s hands. 

The plate is full of hanami dango, the colors more vibrant than Jungkook remembers. Behind Jimin stands everyone else: Seokjin looking proud, Namjoon smiling fondly, Hoseok making excited squeaky sounds, and Taehyung with an empty dango stick already hanging out of his mouth.

The feeling of coming home hits Jungkook so hard, he has to take a step back. 

“We couldn’t get any real fire lilies,” Jin admits, “but Jimin and Namjoon worked some kitchen magic and made dango from what we had around. I hope you like it.” 

“I’d never had it before, but it’s good,” Taehyung confirms. 

“I’ll be your flower, Jungkook-ah!” Hoseok beams, framing his face with his hands dramatically. Jin shakes his head. Jimin offers the plate forward, eyes wet. 

“Welcome home, Kookie-kun.” 

“I love you.” Jungkook couldn’t have stopped the words if he had tried. Locking eyes with Jimin, all he can see is Jimin’s face still with its childhood roundness. For a moment, he is eleven years old again, dressed in crimson fabric and covered in soil. Jimin, the adult Jimin, smiles back at him. 

“Adorable,” Jin coos in the background, and the spell is broken. Jungkook’s gaze darts between the rest of the group.

“I love all of you guys, too. Thank you. This is...thank you.” 

“Aww, anything for our favorite maknae!” Taehyung exclaims around his dango stick. Jimin shakes his head as Jungkook takes a colorful candy from the plate. Not all the pieces are here. He can feel it in his heart, like the natural cracks in the trunk of a tree. It will never be like how he remembers it. 

But that’s okay. That is something he’s learning to be okay with. 

And this? Whatever this is, in this stone city so far from home, with people not dressed in red, is almost better than what he remembers anyways.

\-----

“Odd,” they used to call him. He was dubbed “dreamy” by his mother, “distracted” by his father, and “weird” by his brother. 

Taehyung has always been more interested in his own world than the real one. He got caught daydreaming in class more times than he can count. No mistake, Taehyung remained quite grounded, with his feel buried in the sand or toes caked in mud. He walks with both feet firmly on the ground, and does not envy the birds. “A child of the earth,” his mother also calls him, smiling indulgently at his grubby hands and boxy grin. 

“He’s got crystals for brains, all shine and little else,” teases his brother, which earns him a smack to the back of the head from their mother. Taehyung doesn’t mind. It’s true. Most days, his head is far, far inside the earth, where crystals grow like flowers and cool water fills the cracks and there is always, always that rotating heat at the center, a place that feels like home.

When Taehyung is five years old, he sees the moon for the first time. Well, he’s seen the moon before, barely given it a passing glance. He’d barely even noticed its cycles. But when he is five, his father brings him and his brother out into the fields to help collect the luna slugs from the stalks of their crops. 

The slugs are terrible for wheat, but do wonderfully in a garden of herbs, where they eat the parasitic mites and leave the rosemary quite alone. Taheyung’s little hands grasp around yet another slug, when he looks up at his older brother. 

“Why are they called luna slugs?” 

“Because they only come out at night. Luna is another name for the moon, I dunno.”   
His brother had shrugged, placing another slug in the bucket. Taehyung had looked down at the luna slug in his hands. It’s little eye antennae seem to wave hello, goodbye, over and over again. 

“But why are they named after the moon?” His brother had grunted, dragging the bucket further down the row. In the moonlight, the whites of his eyes have turned silver, grey like the handle of the water pump. 

“Because they have white spots like the moon. C’mon Tae, let’s finish this row.” Taehyung had reluctantly put the slug in the bucket, staring up at the moon as he followed his brother down the row. The moon had been bright that night, waxing almost full. Taehyung’s entire field of vision had been taken by the glowing sphere and the shadow of wheat stalks. And then the questions truly began. 

“Why is the moon’s name Luna? What’s the moon made out of? Is the moon made out of slugs? Can I eat the moon? How big is it? Can we visit the moon tomorrow?” 

“Taehyung-ah, I swear, the spirits gave you too small of a mouth for your big ol’ brain,” his brother laments without much annoyance, focused on their midnight task. Taehyung keeps his eyes to the sky, staring open-mouthed at the moon. 

“Luna,” he whispers. “Hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye.” 

For the next couple years, Taehyung can’t be kept away from his friend the moon, which he takes to calling “Luna” until someone explains that the moon doesn’t have a name, but that the moon spirit’s name is Tui. But Tui doesn’t have the same ring to it, and Taheyung sticks to calling the moon Luna in his head. He hopes the spirit forgives him. But Luna is the one there for him, glowing hello, goodbye, every night without fail. Sure, sometimes Luna whittles down to but a sliver, practically invisible, but always returns in the end. 

And when the little earthbender learns that the moon is, in fact, made of rock? It’s the curtain call for any other interests Taehyung might have had as a kid. The moon is his best friend, something so familiar as the soil under his feet and yet so magical, so far away. 

Bedtime becomes a warzone as Taehyung fights his parents to stay up later and later to see his friend. Eventually, they give in and allow him to sit up a little longer than usual, just watching the moon on the front porch. Even after he’d been put to bed at last, he occasionally snuck out to stand at his tiptoes at the window, looking fondly at the celestial body. 

His head is no longer underground, but is no less lost. Instead, he is far, far away, among silver clouds and glowing soil, where he can feel life in every speck of sand. 

Of course, he stops asking as many questions when he gets older. He stops telling children on the playground the moon is his best friend. He stops visiting the moon at night, stops his midnight visits to Luna. In fact, he forgets most of his childhood obsession as he grows older, deeming his fantasies as childish and therefore useless. 

Taehyung continues to daydream, always thinking of another time and place. But he forgets the pull of the moon, the dreams he used to have of touching the surface. His strangeness makes it a little difficult to make friends, the students more likely to mock his absentmindedness than ask him about his ideas. He manages just fine, but school is never a home to him, in any regard. 

The farm is passed onto his older brother. His sister gets engaged. Taehyung takes an apprenticeship with a leatherworker, which he definitely hates. He forgets about the moon and the name Luna. He forgets his best friend, forgets he ever had one in the first place. 

And yet. When he sweeps the stoop of the Lion Hawk’s Haven after closing, when the streets are long empty and the only noise is the sound of crickets, he can’t help but feel another presence over his shoulder. The moon winks down at him, half empty and half full, hello, goodbye. 

And Taehyung doesn’t feel so alone. 

\-----

-

“There are a lot of things that need fixing,” Jin says, his voice full of skepticism. Namjoon twists in place, arms spread wide. 

“But they’re all fixable. Nothing permanent or that can’t be solved with a scrub and a coat of paint.” Namjoon sounds hopeful. Jin wishes he could share that hope. He wants to see what Namjoon sees in the dirty floors and cracked windows of this old building. It’s definitely within their price range, but the repairs could send them over budget… “I’m not so sure.”

“C’mon hyung, don’t overthink it.” Namjoon rests a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “Forget about the cost of paint and just let yourself imagine. Can you imagine living and working here, when it’s been fixed up?” Sighing, Jin takes another look around the room. He tries to imagine the room full of tables and chairs, each with a simple covering. A framed painting here, a service counter there, and a door with bells at the top; yes, he can see something. It’s not perfect, but it could definitely be something. 

“What’s upstairs?” Jin asks, still appraising the state of the ceiling and walls. 

“An apartment, two bedrooms and a kitchen, small living area. It’s pretty tiny but it’s livable. You want to see it?” 

“Give me a moment.” Jin steps away from Namjoon, walking across the room and trying his best to envision a life here. He tries to imagine waking up every morning to these walls, to hanging a sign with his name on it out front. He tries to imagine people drinking tea quietly at tables and laughing over a shared plate. 

“Of course.” Jin hears Namjoon wander into the next room, what would become the kitchen of the bakery. He’s left alone in the well-lit room, which is empty save for an old broken door leaning against one of the walls and a handful of dead leaves scattered across the floor. The building itself is in good condition structurally. It’s a good price, especially for having living quarters upstairs. It’s a little worn down, having sat unused for a year or two, but Namjoon is right: it’s nothing paint, time, and care won’t be able to fix.

So what’s holding him back? 

“Any thoughts?” Namjoon’s voice echoes in the empty space. He leans against the doorway to the connected room. Jin crosses his arms over his chest, looking around yet again. 

“It’s a good location, and it’s in good condition. With the apartment upstairs we could both put the money we’re using for our rents into the bakery, which is a bonus we weren’t expecting,” Jin says, clinical in his review. Namjoon huffs in amusement. 

“But do you  _ like _ it?” the firebender presses, pushing himself off the wall to meet Jin in the center of the room. 

“...I want to like it,” Jin admits. “I want this to be the perfect place, you know? The right answer. I just want to know for certain I’m not making the biggest mistake in my entire life.” 

“You’ve got a point,” Namjoon chuckles. He trails off, his voice getting quieter. “But I think, at some point, we have to take the leap off the deep end. There won’t come another chance like this one.” 

“What if we choose wrong?” Jin asks. “What if this is the worst option and just when we’ve spent all our money on this place, a better option comes up and we can’t take it?” 

“Then that’s just how it goes,” says Namjoon. “It’s shitty, but that’s life. We take the chances we can get and we play the hands we’re dealt.” 

“I play a mean game of seotda,” Jin grumbles, “and the stakes were never this high.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“...Show me the upstairs first,” Jin allows. Namjoon grins and leads him through the kitchen and out the backdoor. He had mentioned two bedrooms, but this morning had expressed an interest in having an office for the paperwork and business. Does that mean Namjoon means to share a bedroom or bed with him? 

Jin really isn’t sure where he and Namjoon stand. Ever since that first date that had turned into planning a future as business partners, there’s been an underlying tension Jin can’t deny anymore. He knows Namjoon finds him attractive, and he’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about the other man in a less professional setting, but where does that lead him? Where can they go from here, especially now that they’re living and owning a business together? 

“Any thoughts or complaints?” Namjoon’s voice breaks Jin from his miniature crisis. He hadn’t even registered walking up the steps to the door on the second floor landing. Jin blinks and looks around the small apartment. Like Namjoon had said, it’s in much better condition than the first floor, probably because it had less exposure to the elements and the chaos of the street. It’s definitely small, but Jin’s never been picky about the size of his house. If the bakery goes well, he hopefully won’t spend too much time here anyways.

The question of sleeping arrangements remains on Jin’s mind as Namjoon rambles about buying a table and houseplants for the far wall. They’ve never kissed, but there have definitely been moments where it seemed like they might. What does Namjoon expect out of this relationship? Can it even be defined as a relationship? Hell, the man had suggested they live together the third time they had ever met up. 

“-So?” Namjoon looks at Jin expectantly. 

“Are we going to sleep in the same bed?” Jin blurts out. Namjoon blinks, his face blank. Well, this is not how Jin planned on broaching the topic.

“...If you want to?” Namjoon offers, looking very confused. Jin rubs his hands together nervously. 

“Namjoon, what are we? I don’t want to buy anything with you until I understand what we have between us, because it confuses me to no end, so tell it to me straight.” He hears Namjoon step closer, but he doesn’t look up from his feet. 

“Hyung, I don’t think I can do that,” Namjoon apologizes, and Jin’s heart drops. “Because I’m not very straight myself.”

“This is not the time, Joon-ah!” Jin hisses, glaring at the firebender. “I’m serious!”

“I’m sorry.” Namjoon schools his features into something more serious. “I don’t know what to call us either. We’re both attracted to each other but neither one of us have tried to start a formal romantic relationship with the other. We’ve only known each other what, three months, and now we’re going to move in together and start a business. It’s a lot, I agree.”

“Yeah,” Jin sighs in agreement. It’s a lot at once. It’s his entire future, coming at him all at once.

I like to think we’re friends,” concludes Namjoon, the hope from before in his voice once again. “There might be more labels we can add than just that, but I like to start simple.” 

“Friends.” Jin tries the word against his teeth. He likes it. “I think I can work with that.” 

“Does that change your bedroom plans?” Namjoon asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Jin swats at Namjoon’s shoulder in mock offence. 

“Ya! You’re the one who asked me out first!” Namjoon laughs, loud in the empty room and Jin thinks yes, this place sounds like home. This place could be a real home, a safe place.

-

\-----

“Breathe deep for me, like this.” Namjoon lifts and lowers a hand above his chest, emphasizing the movement of his lungs. Jungkook follows suit, chest rising and falling in tandem. He breathes with such determination, Namjoon has to hide his smile behind his hand. “Relax your shoulders. Let yourself untense and feel the sun.” 

Namjoon keeps them breathing in silence for several long moments. He watches Jungkook fight his impatience, working hard to keep his breathing in sync with Namjoon’s. For Namjoon, this is an old exercise, one that has long become muscle memory. For Jungkook, a little patience will go a long way. 

Finally, Namjoon puts his hand down from his chest, though he makes sure to keep the same rhythm. 

“Now, move into the first stance, like you are drawing a bow,” Namjoon instructs, sliding his feet to shoulder width apart, tilting his body so one arm stretches away from his chest while one is tucked close. Jungkook quickly follows suit, shuffling his feet till they match Namjoon’s. “The most important thing is the breath. You have to feel the flow of blood from your chest to your whole body. When you feel that flow, you can tap into your inner energy and feel the flow of your fire. Can you feel it?” Dutifully, Jungkook inhales and exhales, face scrunched in concentration. 

“I think so,” he affirms. Namjoon nods his head. 

“We’re gonna take this slow. I know you can already call the fire, but we’re gonna focus on controlled movements, only where you want the fire to be. Keep this hand tucked loosely to your upper chest, see? We’re going to swap which arm is outstretched. Slide your foot forward till your body is facing the other direction, and the other foot is in front. While you're moving, pull the out hand back and thrust your inner arm out.” Namjoon demonstrated smoothly, fluidly stepping forward and putting the hand he had tucked to his chest forward, while pulling the other one back. “Now you try.” 

Jungkook furrows his brow, sliding his foot forward and punching outward. He’s eager, standing on his toes rather than his heels. He looks immediately to Namjoon for approval. 

“Was that good?” 

“It was a good start,” amends Namjoon. “But you’re putting too much of your weight on the front of your foot. Try sliding forward with your weight centered, with the whole of your foot. You’ll have a lower center of gravity that way.” Jungkook experimentally shifts his weight from foot to foot, seeing what feels comfortable. Then, in a smoother motion than before, he punches forward with his inner hand. 

“Better! Keep that wrist up - you’re not trying to hit anyone, you’re providing a way for that network of energy to leave your body in a controlled manner. Can you still feel the energy?” 

“Yeah!” Jungkook tries the movement several more times, adjusting his weight each time. The kid’s a quick learner, Namjoon has to admit. What took Namjoon a week to learn this kid might master in a day. 

“You’re doing great! Remember your breathing, even as you move. Good!” Maybe Namjoon’s a little liberal with his praise, but it’s not like the kid doesn’t deserve it. Or maybe he’s just, as Hoseok would call it, soft as all fuck for this kid. 

“Can I try bending now?” Jungkook steps out of his stance, eyes shining. Namjoon shakes his head. 

“Let’s stick with movement right now. I want to teach you another, and then we can combine the two you know.” 

The sun is halfway to its highest point when Jimin pads down the steps that lead to the backyard. Namjoon has Jungkook doing an unimpressive movement of the arms still, this one almost a stretch instead of a punch. Jimin stops a good distance away, at the edge of the porch off the backdoor of the bakery, and watches the two men. Though they’re not doing any of the excessive kicks and spins Jungkook has waxed poetic about before, the younger firebender looks content with Namjoon’s teaching. Sweat shines on his temples, slicking the hair of his neck and curling his bangs. Jimin takes a moment to appreciate his hot boyfriend. 

“Come to watch my skills?” Jungkook calls when the two stop in their movements. He wipes his face with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m here to gawk at sweaty men and nothing more,” laughs Jimin. Jungkook blows him a kiss while Namjoon chuckles. 

“Let’s do one more, put them together, and then break for some water. You’ve really been working hard Jungkook-ah.” Jungkook preens under Namjoon’s kind words, ducking his head in embarrassed pride. 

“Thanks hyung.” Jimin folds his arms as Namjoon guides Jungkook into their last pose. It’s another simple movement, a push-pull using both the arms and the legs. Namjoon first demonstrates, then allows Jungkook to try, while providing feedback. Namjoon is a good teacher, in Jimin’s opinion. He cares about the process as well as the result, while also allowing Jungkook to find his own path to the end goal. It also doesn’t hurt that his shirt is sticking to his pecs. 

“Alright, now we put them all together. Start at this one-” Namjoon strikes a pose, and Jungkook mimics him easily. Jimin watches as they move in tandem through several motions, ones Jungkook has mastered before. To his credit, the kid only wobbles a couple times as well, keeping his breathing even and his eyes on Namjoon. 

Jungkook has always been good at most things, especially on the first try. He has a knack for being just a little better than average doing anything, be it playing an instrument, running a mile, or cooking roast duck. He calls it beginner’s luck. Jimin calls it cheating. 

It makes sense he would pick up Namjoon’s firebending teachings pretty quickly. Jungkook’s not a beginner, even if he is untrained, and his fire has always come to him as naturally as breathing. Jimin had been insanely, ungracefully jealous once. Now, he looks on with pride as Jungkook moves fluidly through the stances. The pair end with a pushing-outwards movement, then center once more. Namjoon beams at Jungkook. 

“Very nice! You’re a quick learner, and you listen well.” Namjoon reaches for his waterskin, taking a long gulp.

“I have a good teacher,” Jungkook offers back, taking a drink from his own waterskin to hide his blush. 

“Anyone want an early lunch? Or breakfast I suppose, if you haven’t eaten yet,” comes Jin’s voice from the apartment. Jimin shields his eyes and looks up to where the eldest is standing on the upper deck, a big bowl held aloft in his arms. 

“Good morning!” Jimin calls, waving. Jin waves back. 

“I’d love some food right now,” Namjoon declares. “Do we have any mango or kiwi?” 

“What do I look like, a fruit cart? I made rice with egg, anything else is up to you.” With that, Jin spins and walks back into the apartment. Jimin and Jungkook look at each other and shrug. Even on weekends it seems, Kim Seokjin retains his attitude. 

After they clomp up the wooden steps to the apartment, they find a bowl of cut mango on the table next to the rice. Namjoon hides his smile under a careful façade, while Jungkook coughs into his fist. 

Love is a strange, fleeting thing, Jimin thinks. Sometimes, it comes as a warm hand, a gentle look. Other times it is a bloody nose and a willingness to run. And other times, it is a bowl of cut mangos on the table. 

No one mentions the mangos, but no one denies their existence, and Jin looks exceedingly pleased with himself. 

\-----

Sometimes, the war is not visible from the surface. Sometimes, the war has sunk deeper, dug further into someone’s life than you know. 

Some days are better than others. 

Hoseok’s seemingly endless energy is an asset more often then not. 

Complain as he might, Jin is endlessly thankful for Hoseok’s enthusiasm each morning, keeping the place running when Jin is yawning in the kitchen over the morning’s chores. Even when his characteristic smile isn’t present, his focus always is. His diligence is something Jin admires greatly, something he envies on the harder mornings. 

But sometimes, the scales like to tip in the opposite direction, turning focused energy into nervous habits and a train of thoughts Hoseok can’t stop. It gets worse, once the war starts good and proper. His smiles and his patience grow shorter, his hands shaking where they used to be as steady as the earth he bends, as consistent as the soil he grows all their tea leaves in.

Some days are worse than others. 

It’s the middle of summer, and both temperatures and tensions have been rising. It’s too hot in the kitchen for all of them, having to squeeze around one another in close proximity to a rather hot over. Firebenders tend to run hotter anyways, and a usually inconspicuous extra couple degrees are almost unbearable with two of them in the kitchen at once. Not many people are buying hot tea in this weather - there are always a couple of elderly regulars who drink the same tea regardless of the temperature - but bread and pastries are going at their normal rate. 

In the heat, the kitchen seems to shrink. Even the water in the sink is warm to the touch. Hoseok’s chopping up orange peel to set out to dry, a new blend he’s been working on for the last week, a sort of cinnamon-citrus black tea he’s hoping to impress Jin with by the time it starts to cool off, at last. His fingers are sticky with orange juice and his hair is sticking to his forehead. He presses his waist to the counter to allow Jimin to scoot out the back door with several pitchers. Inside, Namjoon braids dough seemingly effortlessly, sweat shining on his temple and hands a blur. In this heat, it’s hard to make anything complicated or anything that might melt - anything made of delicate sugar or chocolate is completely out of the question. For this week, they’re holding to the basics: sweet bread, simple pastries, and cucumber water. 

“Jungkook!” Namjoon wipes his forehead, sounding a little cross. Namjoon almost never sounds cross. Hoseok looks up from his cutting board in time to see Jungkook stomp back into the lobby. Namjoon grunts in annoyance. “That’s the third time he’s forgotten we’re not serving yakgwa this week because I’m not messing with hot oil in this heat. It’s the third time he’s had to go back and tell a customer to reorder.” 

“He’s trying his best,” Hoseok proposes, pulling another empty half-orange peel towards his knife. He knows this heat has them all running on short tempers, that Namjoon isn’t really angry with Jungkook. It’s hard to believe it though, when Namjoon’s got that stormy look in his eyes and kneads his dough with a little more force than necessary. 

“Sorry again!” Jungkook calls as he strides back into the kitchen, dumping a few plates in the sink. They clatter against the dishes already in the sink, and Hoseok winces at the noise. It’s just a little louder than he would have liked right now, especially when Namjoon’s frustration is so loud on its own. 

“Don’t forget next time, we don’t want to let people down,” Namjoon chides. That’s really why he’s upset: he cares about this bakery and their customers. Hoseok can see that. Jungkook can’t. 

“I won’t let anyone down,” Jungkook states, taking a long drink of water from a mug on the window sill. “I’m doing the best I can. No one’s gotten mad or anything, they understand. It’s fine.” Jungkook and Hoseok both scoot to the edges of the room as Jimin walks back in carrying three full pitchers of water from the pump. Hoseok grabs another orange peel. Namjoon huffs, throwing the finished end of the braided dough down on the counter. 

“It is a big deal if it’s the third time someone has to reorder. What do they want anyways?” 

“Just a couple steamed buns, water with mint and lavender, and dasik.” Jungkook moves to fill up a plate full of the tea cookies. Jimin sighs in frustration from where he’s already filling cups with cool water. 

“We just ran out of lavender, JK, we only have mint, ginger, and cucumbers. You’ve gotta go tell them to have just mint water, or choose another drink.” 

“I can’t do that! I already had to tell them we weren’t making yakgwa and to reorder, they’re gonna think we’re out of everything if I go back out there!” It’s clear that Jungkook’s just anxious, not wanting to let down the patrons he also cares so much about, to be embarrassed again. The boy’s holding onto the edges of his apron with white knuckles for Spirit’s sake. Hoseok can see this. Jimin can not. 

“You’ve gotta do something,” Jimin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is part of your job as a server.”

“I didn’t even know we were out!”

“Why are we out of lavender in the first place?” Namjoon tacks on, digging in the bamboo steamer for pork buns. And boy, does it sound like he’s blaming both Jungkook and Jimin for their sudden lack of an ingredient. The pair turn to glare at Namjoon, Jungkook still gripping his apron tightly. 

“I can always grab some from my garden, it’ll be like twenty minutes,” Hoseok suggests, trying to keep the peace. 

“That’s too long,” Namjoon dismisses Hoseok’s request. “We need to have food and drink out before then.” 

“Then what do you suppose we do?” Jimin says, arms crossed over his chest. “I can’t make lavender appear out of thin air.”

“Let’s just get some from Hoseok’s garden,” Jungkook declares, still looking anxious. His white-knuckle grip is putting Hoseok on edge, more than he was before. 

“You’re not listening,” Namjoon says, “That’s too long. Jungkook, go tell them it’s water with mint or something else.”

“No,” interrupts Jimin, glowering at Namjoon. “Jungkook, go tell them they can order something else, or wait twenty minutes for their original order.”

“You’re not listening,” Namjoon says louder. There’s something frantic in his eyes. He cares too much about the bakery’s reputation, thinks Hoseok as he continues to chop orange peels. “That’s too long, we’re not making people wait twenty minutes for a glass of water!” 

“I can’t go back out there!” Jungkook talks over him, apron wrinkling, his anxiety tangible. 

“Why are we out, didn’t you and Jin do inventory?” questions Jimin above the noise, still upset, arms still crossed. Hoseok wants to raise his hands and cover his ears. He wants to dash out of the kitchen and jog to his garden, his lovely peaceful garden, and grab a handful of lavender and solve all their problems. He wants to-

“Hoseok! Can you stop chopping for just one second!-” And then things stop. 

Well, they don’t stop. But things take on a sort of grainy quality after that. His hand is cold. Why is his hand cold? Why are there soldiers in the kitchen giving him orders?

“-C’mere, let me see.” Namjoon’s face is ashy, determined. Hoseok can’t quite catch his breath, his hand cold even as Namjoon cradles it with both hands. “Seok-ah, let go of the knife.” 

Ah. Yes. He’s been holding on far too tight to the wooden handle. He blinks and blinks again. He can’t breathe- 

“Jungkook!-” There are arms around his back as he curls inward, sinking to the floor even as Namjoon grasps his hand, even as Jungkook struggles to keep him upright. The war is here, in his little corner of safety, in the bakery Namjoon cares too much about, staining Jungkook’s wrinkled apron- 

“Hold him, I think he’s fainted but he’s breathing too hard, yea, on the floor don’t let him hit his head-” 

And his hand suddenly  _ burns _ . It hurts and he wants to pull away from Namjoon’s sweaty hands, wants to curl into the earth and get away from the conflict in the kitchen and in his head. 

“-Hyung!-”

There are hands on his back, on his arm, one on his neck and he hates that, hates that very much, just wants everything to  _ stop _ -

“Woah, shit!” And suddenly, things are quiet. His hand still burns, but now it’s tucked close to his chest, trailing a half-wrapped bandage Hoseok doesn’t remember being put on him. Rivulets of blood trail down his fingers, but it’s difficult to see in the dim lighting. 

Hoseok looks around, finding he can barely lift his head in the earthen dome that covers him now. It’s only a few inches thick by the looks of it, with cracks between the chunks of rock and soil that let air and light in. Outside, Hoseok can hear shuffling and yelling. 

There are a lot of names in the air. Jimin is calling for Taehyung. Jungkook is calling for Seokjin. And Namjoon is calling his name, carefully. 

“Hoseok-ah, you’re okay. You’re okay, I promise. There are no soldiers here, let us in. You’re safe.” Namjoon doesn’t sound like he’s been hurt or dragged off to join their ranks. He sounds worried. 

Hoseok realizes he has to let down the rock walls if he wants Namjoon to help him. He’s the one who made the earth rise around himself, isn’t he? He doesn’t remember bending, he only remembers wanting to get away from the noise-

He deliberately bends the earth back into the ground, feeling the floor beneath him rise from the divot he had created. The noon sunlight blinds him momentarily, but Namjoon is there to help him into an upright sitting position, taking his bleeding hand once again. In the daylight, the cut on his index finger is bloody but shallow, looking worse than it actually is. Jimin is there with a glass of water, his face tight with fear. Namjoon helps Hoseok to take small sips as his breathing slowly returns to normal. 

Jungkook stumbles back through the kitchen doors, his ears red. Hoseok hadn’t noticed his absence. 

“Ok I told everyone to go home and promised free drinks to people later, is he okay?” 

“I’m good,” coughs Hoseok. “I’m alright now.” Namjoon continues to wind the bandage over Hoseok’s shaking index finger and palm. 

“What was that? I’ve never seen someone bend like that,” Jimin asks, clutching the cup of water with both hands. 

“Panic attack, I think” answers Jin smoothly, entering the kitchen behind Jungkook. His posture is professional, but his hands are clasped on his chest, like he’s holding himself back from leaping towards Hoseok. Hosek gives a shaky wave. 

“Yeah. Get ‘em sometimes. I’m good. Just need a moment.” 

“Take as long as you need,” Jin promises. “We have the rest of the afternoon off. It’s too hot to be in the kitchen anyways.” Jin gives him a hesitant smile, and Hoseok is thankful for his consistent humor, the way he always has their backs. 

“Are you sure you’re okay Hoseok?” Jungkook’s doe eyes peer at him over Namjoon’s shoulder. Jungkook is no soldier; he’s a child, and he’s worried about Hoseok. 

There’s still a part of him that wants to run and hide, to sink back into the earth where it’s dark and safe. There’s panic still fizzing on the edges of his nerves, his hands still shaking and smouldering in pain under Namjoon’s bandage. But Jungkook’s eyes and Jin’s hands show concern, show Hoseok he's loved. 

There’s a certain comfort and safety in a kitchen surrounded by several somewhat-powerful benders, by people who love you dearly. And though Hoseok hurts inside and out, though his hands are cold and his head is fuzzy between carefully spaced breaths, he wants to be here with them. 

-

The afternoon finds them all upstairs, crammed into Namjoon and Jin’s apartment with all the windows wide open. Hoseok changes out of his work shirt, which had been soaked through with sweat and a little blood, and into one of Namjoon’s looser tunic shirts. Jin and Jimin are already squabbling over the shadiest spot in the apartment, Jungkook and Namjoon content to sit and drink fruit juice. They’ve made up for their argument before; was there ever any doubt? Could there ever be bad blood between the two firebenders? 

“How are you feeling?” Namjoon’s voice is a warm rumble, so different from his frantic frustration from before. 

“Better,” Hoseok admits, holding his own cup of juice. The fuzzy terror is mostly gone, and his hands are warm in the humid apartment. “I’m sorry about all that, by the way. I didn’t mean to let it go that far.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Namjoon frowns. “It’s not your fault. It’s not like you have any control over when you have a panic attack.” 

“I know,” Hoseok looks down at his clay-stained hands wrapped around the porcelain cup. “I can usually feel them coming though, so I can get away from what’s setting me off.” 

“What did set you off, if you don’t mind me asking?” Namjoon turns to face him better, as Jin surreptitiously pretends not to listen to their conversation. 

“I think it was the arguing, but I’m not usually sensitive to that kind of stuff. It was probably the yelling and the fact you guys weren’t listening.”

“Not listening to you?” 

“Not listening to each other,” Hoseok corrects, swirling the contents of his cup. 

“You know,” Namjoon remarks after a long moment, “I think you’re one of the most perceptive people I’ve ever met, Seok-ah. You read people better than anyone I know. You seem to have a, a way with emotions.” 

“Maybe,” Hoseok shrugs. “I just see things the way they are. The earth doesn’t like to lie.” This comment makes Namjoon chuckle, a genuine, hearty laugh that comes from his stomach. It makes Hoseok smile as well, as Jungkook joins in and Jimin asks what’s so funny. 

It’s oppressively hot today, but the twilight is coming. Tomorrow, Hoseok will bring a brimming basket of lavender and other ingredients, and Jungkook will go out of his way to listen to Namjoon’s every request, and Jin will chat with their regulars and assure them everything is quite fine now. 

There are no soldiers in the kitchen. Never were. 

Some days are worse than others. But some days end with an unplanned family dinner and a hand on his back that steadies his way out the door. Some days could be much, much worse. 

\-----

The day Yoonji arrives ends with a hole through Jin’s drywall. 

Namjoon’s halfway through the backroom door, arms full of plates and thoughts lost in the preparation of the next batch of taiyaki when the front door creaks open. He ignores it, head full of anko recipes and hands busy trying not to drop the half dozen teacups he carries. 

“Be with you in a second!” he calls over his shoulder. As he enters the kitchen, he catches sight of Jungkook stepping forward out of the corner of his eye, probably to deal with this new customer. 

Technically, Namjoon is hosting this morning but Jungkook’s always eager to jump in and assist if Namjoon is struggling. Maybe it’s because both of them are firebenders, or because of the elephant koi-sized crush the kid harbors for him. Either way, Namjoon is so distracted by his armful of dishes he doesn’t notice the sudden shift in atmosphere. 

A thudding crash behind Namjoon shatters his concentration. Shoving the dishes haphazardly onto the counter inside the kitchen door, he whirls and sprints back into the dining room. Fear has already crept its way into his throat. The war is  _ here _ , is here in his quiet little life and quiet little teashop- 

A figure in blue has Jungkook up against the wall next to the front door, hands fisted in his apron. There’s a dent behind Jungkook’s head, where he hit the thin wall. Jungkook is snarling, and Namjoon can already see the pulse of heat growing in the kid’s palm. He needs to de-escalate this and fast, before someone gets hurt or a table gets set on fire. 

“Can I help you?” he asks in his most assertive customer service voice. The figure turns to glance at him, eyes narrowed in a glare. Jungkook takes the moment of distraction to shove the person off him, backing away with his lip still curled. The stranger tenses, anticipating Jungkook to strike back

“He’s a firebender!” spits the stranger, glaring at both Jungkook. “They said the war hadn’t reached Gaoling!” 

“It hasn’t,” affirms Namjoon, crossing his arms. He knows he can be an intimidating presence when he wants to, which isn’t often. The rest of the bakery is frozen, staring at the scene.

“What’s a firebender doing in Gaoling?” the stranger growls. Namjoon internally sighs sadly. This isn’t the first angry customer they’ve dealt with, and it won’t be the last. 

“Well, right now he’s working in my bakery,” Namjoon says dryly. In the corner, Jungkook dusts himself off and crosses his arms. The stranger looks back and forth between Namjoon and Jungkook, thrown off her rhythm. With her glare slipping off her face, Namjoon can see how young and hungry the stranger looks. He recognizes something in the tattered edge to her blue tunic, the frustration in her eyes. 

“Have a seat,” Namjoon invites. Both the stranger and Jungkook looks at him incredulously. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” 

“Namjoon-san!” protests Jungkook. Namjoon waves him back towards the kitchen. The stranger, looking even more confused, takes a hesitant seat at the nearest table. Gradually, the noise and conversation of before picks up again. Namjoon hands the stranger a menu, then walks back to the kitchen. 

Inside, Jungkook rubs the back of his head and grumbles while a concerned Hoseok flits around him, his syrup on the stove forgotten. Namjoon would be more concerned if he didn’t know firsthand just how thick Jungkook’s skull was. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asks. Kindness or not, his little family will always be his first concern. 

“I’m fine,” Jungkook mutters. Hoseok clucks his tongue in doubt. “Why didn’t you kick her out?” There’s something in Jungkook’s face that shows a level of betrayal. Namjoon is quick to explain, a hand coming up to rub Jungkook’s shoulder. 

“If she’s rude again, I will, I promise. Sometimes, the best thing you can offer someone is compassion.” Jungkook screws up his nose and looks down. Hoseok pats him on the cheek, then squeaks and hurries back to his forgotten syrup. Namjoon takes a step closer, lowering his voice just for Jungkook. “She reminds me of a certain fiery-spirited young man who walked in one day and tried to pick a fight with Jin.” 

Jungkook huffs. He’s also so young, still a little furious and a little lost. “Jungkook. If she tries to pick a fight, she’s gone. But I think she’s just angry at the world. Trust me.” Jungkook looks at him for a long moment, then nods. 

“There are too many angry people,” Jungkook says quietly, in acceptance. Namjoon closes his eyes, heart breaking all over again. He pulls his pieces close toward himself, opens his eyes, and pats Jungkook’s shoulder once more. Sometimes, he hates his own compassion, wishes to choose differently. But the war will not take this from him, even if he bleeds for it. 

Back in the main room, the woman is sipping from a cup in obvious confusion. Hoseok must have brought her tea while Namjoon was talking to Jungkook. With rage no longer furrowing her brow, she looks lost, like a puppet with its strings cut. Namjoon wipes his hands on his apron and makes his way over, stopping along the way to chat with some of their regulars. Most of them express concern for Jungkook, which Namjoon finds touching. How quickly their youngest has found a niche in this city.

“How’s your tea?” Namjoon asks, sinking into the chair across from her. She regards him with bemusement, delicately setting down the cup on the table. Namjoon politely ignores the dent in the wall behind her head. 

“It’s fine.” There’s an intensity to her that Namjoon doesn’t know how to unpack yet. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Yoonji.” 

“Where are you from, Yoonji?” With every question, her eyes get narrower and narrower. 

“North.” The tea in her cup goes unnaturally still, held motionless. So she’s a waterbender. Now that Namjoon’s looking for it, he can see the dark blue wraps she has on under her standard green traveling cloak. 

“You’re a long way from home,” he remarks. 

“I could say the same about your wayward firebender over there,” she shoots back, folding her arms. 

“Here’s the thing,” Namjoon continues, calm as always. He will not be the one to perpetuate the violent firebender stereotype. But neither can he allow violence in his home, to his family. 

“Jungkookie’s a good kid, and he doesn’t deserve your misplaced anger. You are welcome to tea and bread, but not to insult the staff. Your composure is required, and an apology wouldn’t be out of the question.” With the utmost control, Namjoon lights the tip of his index finger with a small flame, barely the size of his nail. Yoonji glowers at the flame, but keeps her mouth shut. Namjoon smiles politely at her, barely keeping from baring his teeth.

“Would you like anything to eat with your tea?” 

\-----

In all honesty, Namjoon doesn’t expect to see the woman again. She leaves quietly without giving an apology, but Namjoon never expected one in the first place. She wouldn’t be the first angry person, and she won’t be the last. 

A few days later, after Jin had fussed over the dent in his wall and Hoseok had fixed it with his bending and bandaged hand, she reappears. This time, it’s just as the evening crowd subsides, when Taehyung is sweeping the front stoop. 

Taehyung’s not really sure what to make of the woman in blue and green that stands with her shoulders squared, seemingly afraid of the front door. He pauses in his chore, leaning on the broom handle. 

“We’re still open.” The woman startles, hackles still raised. 

“What?” Her narrowed eyes catch the rising moon, turning her irises silver. Taehyung catches the lilting hint of an accent he can’t quiet place, something sharper than the gliding syllables of a Fire Nation dialect. 

“The Lion Hawk’s Haven is still open,” Taehyung explains. “I just shut the door so I wouldn’t sweep the dust inside.” She assesses him once more, moves to go inside, then stops. She glares at him once more, and all Taehyung can think about is silver and the moonlight off her teeth. 

“Do you like working here? For...these people?” she asks. Taehyung hums in response, still leaning on his broom. 

“You mean Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung? Yeah, I like working here. They let me work in the evening and eat the leftover chapssal.” She chews on his words for a long moment, looking lost in thought. “Why, you have a better job offer? It’s gotta offer something better than chapssal.” 

“No, and I don’t know what that is,” she grumbles. With a deceptively delicate hand, she pushes her hair out of her face and Taehyung sighs happily.

“Well, are you trying to get a job here then? I dunno if Jin-hyung is hiring, but he’s got a heart that’s too big for his own good, he might let you do dishes for some pay,” Taehyung offers. She hesitates for a moment, then nods curtly. Taehyung visibly brightens. “Great! I’m Taehyung by the way.” 

“Are you all brothers?” she asks as he leads her inside. 

“Nah, just friends.” 

“But all your names end the same.” 

“Huh?” Now Taehyung’s a little confused, but by now they’ve reached the swinging door to the kitchen. Taehyung pushes his way inside, calling out, “Hyung! This is-” he stops and looks at the woman, “-what’s your name?” 

“Yoonji,” she mutters, staring forward resolutely. Namjoon meets her gaze evenly, wiping a towel over a plate. He nods in greeting, face carefully blank.

“-This is Yoonji, she’s looking for a job if we’ve got one!” Taehyung presents her in front of Namjoon and Jin, looking hopefully. Jin steps closer behind Namjoon, smiling. 

“Nice to meet you, Yoonji. I’m Seokjin, I run this bakery with my friend Namjoon. Are you new to Gaoling?” She nods, eyes darting between Jin and Namjoon. Namjoon stays quiet, watching her carefully as he dries the plate in his hands. She swallows once, then says, 

“I, I’m from the Northern Water Tribe. I came here to see what the world could offer me. But I’ve only found anger and suffering, and now the war stops me from returning home.” Jin ducks his head in sympathy, recalling the current siege on the great ice walls of the Northern Water Tribe. He can’t imagine the fear, the feeling of powerlessness that Yoonji must carry.

“Maybe you’ve found kindness at last, Yoonji.” Namjoon steps forward, and Yoonji tenses. “There’s a place for you here, if you want it. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be somewhere you could stay, just for now.” 

_ Wouldn’t be the first refugees they’ve taken in _ , Taehyung thinks, picturing Jungkook with his long hair and Jimin’s bitten nails. Moonlight still gleaming off the dark river of her hair, Yoonji hesitates before dipping her head. 

“...Just a temporary position. Until the dust settles,” she concedes. Jin smiles again, a rare moment of serenity. And a small, selfish part of Taehyung hopes briefly for the dust to never settle, for Yoonji to stay silver forever in this safe haven. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the Fire Lily Festival section was one of the first things I ever wrote for this story, and I had the joy of building around it. This chapter lays the foundation for a lot of things in the fic. Namjoon teaching Jungkook, Taehyung and Luna, and Yoonji! We'll definitely be hearing more from Yoonji next time...
> 
> I messed with the timeline and the overall attitude of war in the Fire Nation. While I'm pretty sure in the show it was just "Sozin bad and the rest of the fire nation just followed along," I think it makes a more interesting, realistic narrative to show a national descent into war, into fascism.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading, next chapter goes up in a week!
> 
> Comments/kudos keep me writing in the dark of the winter
> 
> Find me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/sunstarsseokjin


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Sweethearts!
> 
> We're officially over halfway there! I hope you like this chapter, it has a lot of backstory for several characters, including my favorite scene in this whole fic. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for light references to past transphobia, nothing explicit just discomfort from a social transition. Be safe!
> 
> Happy Reading!

Language becomes a problem. 

See, it wasn’t terribly difficult for Jimin and Jungkook to become accustomed to the Earth Kingdom dialect. With Namjoon to help translate and mediate, and their previous knowledge of honorifics, it wasn’t hard at all for them to get used to Jungkook’s regular use of “Joon-san,” or “Jin-sama” when he’s joking. Having been trade partners throughout history, the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdoms were never too separate to begin with, and all of them had had at least some exposure to the other language/customs. 

But Yoonji is different. Growing up in the isolated northern reaches of the world, she’s had very little contact with either Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom customs, much less a system of honorifics that changes depending on who’s speaking. 

So it’s only a slight surprise when she drags Hoseok aside during a lull in customers. 

“Why do you all have different names for each other?” she asks, mouth already twisted into a scowl. Hoseok tilts his head in confusion. He’s not intimidated by a little sleet and snow. 

“Different names? What do you mean?” 

“The young one-” Yoonji gestures outward with her palm, like she’s cradling a ball of fire, “-he calls Namjoon ‘Joonsan.’ And you call Jin ‘Jinhung.’ What is the difference?” 

“I call him - _ hyung _ because he’s older than me,” Hoseok corrects gently. “It’s an Earth Kingdom thing. Jungkook uses Fire Nation honorifics with Namjoon because it’s familiar to him, it’s polite.” Yoonji huffs in frustration. 

“This is...confusing,” she complains. Hoseok shrugs. 

“Sure is. Jimin and Jungkook struggled with it too for a bit. If you don’t wanna use ‘em, that’s fine too.” He hadn’t been thrilled when Jin had announced they had a new employee, especially when it was revealed she was the same rude patron from before. But so far, she seems alright, quiet and hardworking at the very least. 

Hoseok doesn’t really  _ get _ waterbenders. He’d been to the ocean once when he was younger, and found the experience strange and scary. How can they live on top of frozen water in the Water Tribes, rarely touching the sunbaked earth he so adores? How can someone live ungrounded? 

It’s the same way he doesn’t understand Taehyung, he supposes. Despite both of them being earthbenders, Taehyung has this absurd fascination with his own daydreams and the moon. Once, when they both had gotten  _ spectacularly _ drunk on Jin’s birthday, Taehyung had revealed his affection for the faraway rock in the sky. 

“It’s beautiful,” Taehyung had slurred, eyes bright and hands clumsy. “You know the feeling of your palm on the soil, the certainty? The life you can sense? How that life glows faintly?” Hoseok had nodded dumbly, his feet numb in his shoes. Taehyung turns to look skyward, at the half-sliver visible on that night. “I think, I mean, can you imagine the feeling if you touched the moon, glowing as brightly as it does? The amount of life? I’d like to see it one day, just a touch.” Taehyung had sighed, leaned harder into Hoseok’s shoulder. Maybe he had said something more, but Hoseok has little memory of the rest of the night.

Yoonji is not at all like Taehyung, too blunt and reserved to be compared to the sleepless boy in love with the moon. But Hoseok can understand that she is different; that though they may think differently, they both are made of flesh and blood. 

“How do you show respect in the Water Tribes?” Hoseok asks instead. Yoonji shrugs. 

“We allow our elders to speak and eat before anyone else. It’s not so much based on, what is the word, gender? Respect is given freely, in all things, all actions. Though we do have separate roles for men and women.” Yoonji taps her fingers on her hands as she talks. 

“Earth Kingdom honorifics are definitely based on the speaker,” Hoseok chuckles to himself. “That’s why Namjoon and Taehyung and the young ones call you ‘noona.’ It’s an age thing, but it’s also because you’re a girl.” 

“And this noona-” Yoonji chews on the word, “is a sign of respect for women?” 

“Yes.” The door to the bakery jingles open, and Hoseok’s attention splits, already anticipating the water he’ll need to boil, the buns he’ll need to grab. It’s why he doesn’t give enough thought to Yoonji’s next sentence:

“This is not a respect I would have gotten up North.” Yoonji’s smile is a little frightening. 

“Really?” 

“No. Perhaps all this sand is good for something after all.” Hoseok blinks, then laughs unexpectedly. 

“You just - you just told a joke! You’re funny!” Yoonji fixes him with a truly chilly glare, but there’s a friendly push-pull to it. 

“We have customers, Hoseok.”

“I know that!” He calls after her as both of them head into the main room. 

\-----

Hoseok is correct: Taehyung is most certainly  _ not _ like Yoonji. 

“Focus!” Yoonji’s hand brushes swiftly over Taehyung’s shoulder in a mock swat. “You’ll let the tea steep too long!” 

“Oh, sorry!” Taehyung moves quickly to pour the tea, the heady scent of black tea and orange zest filling the kitchen. It’s one of Hoseok’s new blends. Yoonji clucks her tongue and takes the tray into the lobby. Taehyung rubs the back of his neck and watches her leave. 

Ever since Jin hired her, the schedules have shifted to accommodate another worker. Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jin usually open the shop, doing the prep work and dealing with the morning rush. Jimin and Jungkook take most of the middle of the day, Jin and Namjoon coming down from the apartment to oversee every so often. Taehyung and Yoonji have the latest shift, from late afternoon to closing. 

It’s only been a few days of working with this modified schedule, and Taehyung thinks Yoonji probably hates him already. She seems frustrated with all his efforts and gives him the cold shoulder when he tries to ask about her personal life. And yet, the movement of her hands and the way she rolls some of her syllables, as if she’s savoring each letter, draws him in. It’s as if he’s doomed to be the moth that circles her light, burning himself every night when he gets too close. 

The other day, she called him an idiot with a brain the size of a malformed walnut. Taehyung thinks he loves her. 

But his walnut brain and swollen heart aside, Taehyung finds himself genuinely curious about the Water Tribe woman. Setting the kettle back on the stove to reheat, Taehyung leans against the counter and commits to learning more about Yoonji. 

When she walks back into the kitchen, Taehyung grins and stands up straight. She gives him a concerned look and goes to put her tray of dirty dishes in the sink. 

“Noona, do you have any siblings?” 

“Just a brother.” Yoonji stays at the sink, dutifully rinsing out the cups. 

“Older or younger?” 

“Older.” 

“Do you have any cousins?” 

“Why do you want to know?” Yoonji pauses in her washing to fix him with a stare. Taehyung shrugs, trying not to feel like he’s been pinned down by her eyes. 

“I want to know about you.” 

“Why.” It’s a statement rather than a question. “We have work to do.” 

“Work can wait for a minute, people can drink their tea without supervision.” Taehyung leans back again and folds his arms. “So, any cousins?” 

“A couple,” Yoonji relents, shaking her hands dry. “I wasn’t very close to any of them.”

“Are you close with your brother? I have an older brother too, and we see each other pretty often, though he’s married and lives just outside the city.” 

“I am, I guess.” Yoonji chews her lip and looks into the distance. “He’s always been nice to me, even when other people were not. I haven’t seen him in a few months.” 

“Ah, yeah.” Taehyung had forgotten about the siege, and it being too dangerous for her to return home. He decides to change the topic. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“I like to read.” Yoonji taps her fingers on her opposite wrist. 

“What do you read?” 

“Historical texts, mostly. Sometimes fiction.” 

“You were that kid who liked school, weren’t you?” Taehyung tentatively teases. “I certainly wasn’t. I just can’t get into history.”

“History is almost the same as fiction,” Yoonji defends, crossing her arms. “It’s just stories about people and their actions. How are they different?” 

“You tell me, you were the one who said you liked one over the other.” Taehyung holds his hands up in the air. Yoonji looks at him skeptically.

“Fiction is also stories, but it’s a lot more, how do I word this, emotional? A lot of fiction is about romance and pining. I can’t always relate to it. It’s too...dreamy.” Yoonji doesn’t look Taehyung in the eye. 

“I’m dreamy sometimes,” Taehyung says. “Can you relate to me?” He means this as a joke, because of course she doesn’t. She is nothing like him. She is far away from his orbit.

“Sometimes,” she says, surprising Taehyung out of his slouch against the door. “You care about the people you serve, the people you work for. You call them brother. I relate to your sense of community. I wish I shared your love of this place.” 

“You could have it too, if you wanted,” Taehyung finds himself offering her. To think that Yoonji could ever envy him for anything is a revelation that will require more thought later. 

“Could I?” Yoonji asks with a wry smile. Taehyung feels breathless at the uncommon expression on her face. “Could I call you brother?” 

“You can call me whatever you like,” Taehyung blurts out. Yoonji gives him a cold, cold look of judgement. Taehyung shrugs helplessly. “You could uh, call me Taehyung-ah? Like everyone else here? If that would make you feel more like one of us. Because you are one of us, I mean.”

And she is one of them already, in a way. She has kneaded the recipe for Jin’s breads and served Hoseok’s special tea blends of the day and washed dishes in the same water as Jungkook. She is one of them, by now. Taehyung wants to offer her a home, offer up anything she desires for. 

“Alright,” she agrees after a long pause. “Taehyung-ah.” His name sounds lovely from her mouth.

“Right,” he affirms weakly. 

“Taehyung-ah,” she says again, smiling slyly. “Go check on the lobby and see who needs a refill.” And the spell she cast may be broken, but Taehyung likes this teasing smile better than that secretive magic from before. 

“That’s cheating,” Taehyung whines, picking up his tray and grabbing a kettle off the stove. Yoonji gives him another one of her looks before turning back to her sink full of plates. Taehyung takes one last look at her, at the hair that reaches the middle of her back and the strength in her stance, and walks through the kitchen door. 

“Hello! How are we doing tonight?” 

\-----

Namjoon’s face drips with sweat, but the motion of his hands doesn’t falter as he speaks, a steady roll of his palms and elbow. 

“Kneading is the hardest part but after you knead it, you leave it to rise for a couple hours.” He seems oblivious to the way Jungkook’s eyes remain glued to his bulging triceps, even when Taehyung notices and gives him a dirty look. Jungkook winces sheepishly. 

Wiping his brow, Namjoon sets the bowl aside and covers it with a damp towel. He grins at the two men watching him. “Any questions?” 

“What’s next?” chirps Jungkook. Namjoon beams, dimples on full display. 

“I like the way you think.” The backdoor leading outside is open, but the combination of the summer heat and the bread oven have turned the kitchen into a sauna. Jungkook’s sleeves are rolled up, and Taehyung has on only a vest over his bare chest. Namjoon, in a sleeveless tunic under his apron, is finally teaching them how to make bread, an upgrade from brewing tea and waiting tables. 

“This next one is simple and much faster than bread. It’s a street food called bungeoppang. Usually people eat it in the winter, but I think it’s good year-round.” Namjoon pulls out the flour once again, pouring a cup into a large bowl without looking. Taehyung admires that kind of competence, being able to measure by weight and sight alone. Jungkook sighs dreamily over Namjoon’s shoulders again and Taehyung swats at him. 

“Stop ogling Joon-hyung!” Taehyung hisses. Jungkook swats back at him while Namjoon’s back is still turned. 

“Jimin would be ogling too! Have you seen those arms?” Taehyung snorts in disbelief. Namjoon glances over his shoulder, a smear of flour on his cheek. 

“You might recognize this one, Jungkook-ah.” Reaching beneath the counter, Namjoon pulls out an oddly-shaped cast iron pan, indented in a pattern. Jungkook’s eyes go wide. 

“That’s a taiyaki pan!” Jungkook exclaims. Taehyung wrinkles his nose. 

“A what now?” 

“Right!” Namjoon grins at the two. “As it turns out, someone brought taiyaki over to the Earth Kingdom a long ass time ago, and they started calling it bungeoppang. But it’s essentially the same thing.” 

“I haven’t had taiyaki in so long!” Jungkook’s eyes are shining. 

“It’s easy to make, right?” Taehyung leans over to get a better look at the pan. “It’s just cooked batter with bean paste inside.” 

“It’s pretty easy,” Namjoon agrees. “Taehyung-ah, can you grab the bean paste from the cool cabinet?” 

“Sure thing hyung!” As Taehyung ambles off to the underground cellar, Namjoon directs Jungkook to mix sugar and water into the bowl.

“I was as surprised as you are,” Namjoon tells him, handing him a spoon. “I thought I’d never see one of these pans again.” 

“Me too.” Jungkook mixes the batter carefully, until it has no more lumps. He thought he’d left red ribbons and taiyaki behind forever when he had run with Jimin. 

It’s nice to have something familiar, even if it’s been reskinned.

Their first batch is just coming off the stove when Yoonji comes into the kitchen, a bucket and cloth in her hands. Taehyung takes a bite and flaps his hand rapidly in front of his mouth, the filling hotter than he was expecting. 

“What are you making?” Yoonji sniffs over the plate of steaming, fish-shaped buns. “They look like fish, but not.”   


“They’re called bungeoppang!” Jungkook shares excitedly. “We have them in the Fire Nation too. Do you wanna try one?” Yoonji shrugs, looking skeptical.

“Is there fish in there?” 

“Ain’t no fish inside,” Namjoon says, brushing oil onto the pan to prepare it for the next batch. 

“Then why are they shaped like fish?” 

“For fun!” Taehyung offers her one. Yoonji stares down at dough eyes. The pastry stares back. 

“Okay.” Shamelessly, she leans over and takes a careful bite from the bungeoppang in Taehyung’s hands. The earthbender goes stock still, a blush climbing his cheeks. She chews thoughtfully for a moment, then nods. 

“It tastes good.” 

“Great! We used to have this back home as street food! Joon-san says they eat it more in the winter here, probably because it gets colder here.” 

“Yep! We make lots more in the winter,” Namjoon confirms, bent over the oven door to stoke the coals with his firebending. His ass happens to be quite prominent in this position. Jungkook chokes on his bungeoppang.

“Are you okay?” Yoonji asks as Taehyung thumps Jungkook soundly on the back. 

“I’m fine,” Jungkook coughs, face bright red. Yoonji follows his line of sight and spots Namjoon’s thick thighs. It’s rather difficult not to notice them. 

“Ah. Aren’t you, what’s- _ together _ with Jimin?” Yoonji inquires, looking doubtful. 

“I am!” Jungkook squeaks as Taehyung snickers in the background. Namjoon remains oblivious, distracted by his own flames. “We are most definitely together!” 

“Then why-” Yoonji frowns, looking pointedly at Namjoon’s ass. Jungkook covers his face, and Taehyung steps in to save him. 

“Jungkook-ah and Jimin are definitely together, but that doesn’t mean Jungkook doesn’t get  _ distracted _ sometimes. To be honest, Jimin does the same thing over the same pair of  _ assets _ too. They know they love each other, looking doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“Please stop talking,” moans Jungkook quietly behind his hands. “He’s my  _ boss _ .” 

“So you both lust over the same person, and this makes it not-cheating,” puzzles Yoonji. At the word lust, Jungkook groans louder and slumps into Taehyung’s side. 

“I think you broke Jungkook,” Taehyung comments, as if he’s discussing the weather. 

“Neither of us want it to _ go anywhere, it’s just right there, please stop _ -”

“What’d you guys do to Jungkook?” Namjoon stands and wipes the sweat off his forehead, flashing some underboob from the side of his sleeveless shirt. Instant kill. Jungkook sinks to his knees as Taehyung cackles wildly and Yoonji looks on incredulously. “Really, what did you do?”

“It’s nothing,” Yoonji assures him, rolling her eyes at the two youngest’s dramatics. “Just Jungkook remaining faithful to his lover’s memory.” Taehyung cries from laughing, and Jungkook curls into the fetal position on the floor. Namjoon smiles in confusion, bless his heart and his cute little ass. 

Yoonji shakes her head. Fire Nation people are strange indeed. 

\-----

Hoseok remembers the first time he heard the soldiers in the street. 

It had been almost two years ago, long before war had officially been declared. Hoseok had only just started working at the Lion Hawk’s Haven, only just started to get used to the rushed life of a server. He likes Jin and Namjoon just fine, even if they aren’t the closest of friends yet. He likes their professional relationship just fine. 

He had been just about to leave his house, with his lovely little garden he so carefully watched over, when something had stopped him. Very distantly, the earth had begun to shake, like the footsteps of some beast or lost spirit. Hoseok pauses in buttoning his shirt, putting a hand on the window sill. The lilac daphne on the sill trembles. Hoseok puts a hand on its pot to steady it, feeling the thrum of life in the tangle of the daphne’s roots. It’s a comfort as Hoseok cranes his neck out the window, searching for the source of the earth’s vibrations. Perhaps a stampede from one of the farms on the outskirts of Gaoling? 

In the distance, at the end of Hoseok’s street, marches forward a cloud of dust. Within the cloud, Hoseok can just make out the shape of boots, of men standing tall in formation with one another. Hoseok’s hand freezes on the daphne’s pot. 

This shouldn’t be unexpected. This shouldn’t scare him as much as it does. This shouldn’t be happening, not in this city, not so far from the front lines. 

But it is. And there’s nothing Hoseok can do to stop it, nothing he can do but watch in frozen fear as the dust cloud becomes lines of soldiers, becomes a quarter of an hour of watching young men march off to a war they did not ask for. Most of them look brave, look ready for a fight. Many of them look angry, on the brink of uncontrollable rage, as if an innocent passerby that breaks their rhythm will receive a sword through the chest themselves. Many of them are probably earthbenders like Hoseok. Too many of them look like Hoseok himself. 

He watches, stock still with one hand on his plant and one hand on the sill, raw to the fear he sees in too many of these boys. 

He should be out there too, lined up for recruitment. Perhaps, if he had more courage or conviction or pride or bloodlust, he would join the ranks of the soldiers outside his window. He would wage war on behalf of his nation, his culture, his home. The world would change on the blade of his sword and on the rocks at the end of his fists. 

But Hoseok, to put it simply, does not want or need the world to know his name. All he wants is his garden and a cup of soju with friends and a roof over his head. He wants to say hello to the little yellow flowers that line his porch and feel the sun kiss his skin. Blood cannot water his plants, cannot make things grow. All the forged iron in the world cannot feed people, cannot feel like the life pulsing in the roots of a tree older than Hoseok’s grandparents. 

He watches the soldiers until the last line of men is but a speck down the street. In their absence, heads appear in windows and people step cautiously out of their houses, as if asking their neighbors if what they saw was just a fever dream. 

Hoseok doesn’t want to believe it himself. He doesn’t want a war, anywhere, for anyone. He wants to return to his quiet, busy little morning where he had thought of nothing more than Jin and Namjoon’s little cafe and watering his clovers this afternoon. 

But now there is war; concrete, absolute, terrifying. It is in his streets. It is in his home. And that can never be undone, no matter how many clovers Hoseok waters or how tall his sunflowers grow. 

-

Jungkook remembers the first time he heard the soldiers in the street. 

He had been walking home from school, shoes catching on the stray puddles left over from that morning’s grey drizzle of rain. It’s mid-summer, and the rain only increases the humidity in the coastal town he calls home. Still, a little rain is much appreciated after long, dry days of the middle months. 

He’s just about to kick at another shallow divot of water, shattering his reflection when something stops him: the sound of many voices, someone calling to a crowd. It almost sounds like a parade. Jungkook looks up, seeking the source of the sound.

There’s a crowd forming in the square, one that seems to grow in size and sound by the minute. Jungkook’s overwhelmed by the amount of red he sees in the square. There’s a man speaking at the head of the crowd, wearing a rich brocade fabric.

“Too long have things been unfair! Too long have the scales tipped in favor of the others! We work and we work, and what do we get? Very little to show for our efforts!” A ripple of furious agreement runs through the crowd. Jungkook thinks it’s a little presumptuous for this man, who clearly is very wealthy, to talk of hard work to a bunch of farmers and vendors, but no one else seems to notice or care. 

“Why, just last week, the great and powerful Firelord tried to bargain for more farm land for our colonies, so that the families that bravely moved away from the Fire Isles could support themselves. And do you know what the Earth King did? He denied our generous Firelord, denied his ambassador and restricted the colony families from their hard-won farms!” Cries of anger and disbelief come from the crowd, Jungkook looks around. Is this true? That doesn’t sound very fair or like something the Earth King would do. But this rich man says it, so it must have some truth…

“Or,” the man continues, “what about those Air Nomads? Those who take children from their mothers as soon as they show signs of bending, who shave their heads in dishonor and preach abstaining when all they do is take children and resources!” More shouts of angered agreement. The attitude of the crowd is shifting into some new animal, dangerous as it moves around Jungkook. He doesn’t like this shift in attitude. This feels like it could turn into a riot any second. 

“True power comes from fire, from warmth and family! True strength comes from passion and anger, while those cold nomads sit in their temples and teach their children to separate themselves from their passion. They think themselves better than us who work in the sun, because they meditate with the spirit world all day long instead of providing food for their families. They drain our resources and look down on us in the same breath!” 

“The only good air bender is a dead one!” comes the voice of a man frighteningly close to Jungkook. He jumps and looks over at the older man, who has his teeth bared in a furious grimace. Similar shouts come from others in the crowd. Jungkook doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want to be lost in this crowd of rage. Not all air nomads can be like that, right? Jungkook doesn’t know what’s true anymore, he just wants to be  _ away from here _ . 

“And those water tribes,” the rich man continues, clearly not finished with tearing apart just two of the three other peoples of this world. “They sit in their frozen wastelands and their simple huts and-” 

Jungkook can’t hear anymore, doesn’t want to be swept away in this mob. He turns his back on the speaker and fights his way out of the square, pushing past the people who press forward to hear the rich man speaking.

There is more shouting as Jungkook finally pushes his way into a side street leading away from the market. Someone tries to grab his arm, but he quickly shakes them loose. He wants to be home, behind a closed door where there is no hatred. He wants to be in Jimin’s arms, a place he has never had to call into question. 

He’s almost jogging as he rounds another corner, probably a block from his house, when he stops dead in his tracks. 

A platoon of soldiers marches through the street. They have swords at their hips, but don’t seem to be attacking anyone. No, this is a display of force, a show of strength. It is meant to feed the pride of those already angry, those willing to go to war. The line of soldiers stream past Jungkook, unstopping, uncaring. Jungkook is frozen where he stands, an unfamiliar fear threatening to overtake him. 

Because now he knows, with no denial possible: war is coming, and it will take him far, far away, to a place he cannot run home from. 

War, senseless war, is coming, and the nation is already baring its teeth. 

-

Yoonji remembers the first time she heard the soldiers in the street.

She had been sitting in front of her aunt’s house, supposedly babysitting her two cousins. Her uncle had given her a long look when she had knocked on their door, but the job of childcaring must be done by someone, and Yoonji was asking to do it. With a lingering glare, her uncle had departed with her aunt, leaving their two children in Yoonji’s care. 

Yoonji sighs. She may be a woman, and have to fight to take on a woman’s role, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys all of it. Despite the previous discomfort, Yoonji quite liked having real combat training and an actual bending tutor. One of her cousins, Insook lets out a loud cry as she digs in the snow outside of the house. Her mittens are far too big for her small hands, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she claps her comically large hands together. She’s only two, still content with playing by herself in her own world.

“Noona!” Her other baby cousin, Namhee, holds up a handful of snow. “Noona do the thing!” Yoonji complies, dutifully twisting her hand and turning the snow into a lopsided crystal. It’s not her best work, but Namhee still gasps like it’s some wondrous feat. She’s only five, still young enough to be entertained with simple bending tricks. 

“I’m an ice princess!” She holds up the palm-sized ice crystal to her forehead, as if it is some oversized jewel. Yoonji laughs despite herself. 

“Yes, you are.” Her uncle can say whatever he likes: Yoonji is passable at watching over children, even when it’s not her favorite chore in the world. Her aunt had been more than happy to have the help. She will suffer this small displeasure in exchange in forgoing the lifelong ache. Children are simple, and agreeable to change, such as calling their cousin noona instead of-

“What’s that?” Insook points down the sloped street, asking one of the few questions she can string together. Yoonji looks up to see a group of people in the distance, coming down the street. The house is in a residential section of the great ice city, and groups of a dozen people just aren’t common. 

Yoonji stands up and dusts her hands on her kuspuk, peering down the street. They’re eerily quiet for a group that size; usually the larger crowds would be boisterous family gatherings that had spilled outside. This group is walking quietly down the street. Yoonji narrows her eyes and steps subtly in front of Insook and Namhee. This is her job, her family, and she will not back down. Something prickles her senses, and she’s not willing to take any chances. 

The group comes closer and closer to the yard Yoonji stands in. She sees several other people poke their heads out of their doors, watching the unusual mob with unease. The Northern Water Tribe prides itself on its strength and military might, but there have never been soldiers in a neighborhood yet. 

Because that’s what they are: soldiers. Yoonji sucks in a breath as she catches sight of their spears and knives. They walk with a purpose Yoonji can’t identify, with a finality that scares her. She had heard whispers of conflict, the shredded gossip shipped north talking of tension and a brazen Fire Lord intent on conquering the world. She had dismissed most of it as nothing but speculation, but for the soldiers of the Northern Water Tribe to be marching in the streets…

War must be on the horizon, closer than Yoonji can prepare for. 

Even Insook and Namhee seem to have caught wind of what’s happening, both of them pausing in their play and watching the group of men draw closer. They don’t look scared; they don’t know what this means, for them and their parents, possibly even their children. Yoonji feels the tang of fear surge in the back of her throat like bile. She swallows. She will not be drowned by her own ocean, not when she stands in front of her family’s home, not when she stands alone. 

The soldiers are level with the yard now. They barely spare the people in their doorways a glance, and Yoonji is no different. Their eyes pass over her and the children quickly, looking for- 

They’re looking for boys and men, Yoonji realizes. They’re looking to recruit. 

“Hey. Hey, Yoon-Yoonji.” A sickeningly familiar voice calls her name, stumbling once like a skipped stone. She watches one of the men break away from the group and - oh Spirits, it’s Kaiyo. 

“What are you doing out here?” Yoonji hears herself asking. Behind her, Namhee and Insook stay silent. Kaiyo grimaces in that way that’s so recognizable, slipping off his helmet and tucking it under one arm. 

“We’re trying to increase our ranks. I don’t know if you heard, but war is coming, or so our leaders fear. It’s just a precaution, call it paranoia.” 

“They wouldn’t have you in the streets if it wasn’t imminent,” Yoonji says, dread dragging her words down. Kaiyo sighs. 

“If that’s so then Yoonji, we could use you. You’re an incredible bender, you’re the best of all of us at combat bending - or, you were at least five months ago.” Kaiyo looks at her with hope, hope that she all too vindictively pops. 

“Things change,” Yoonji says bruskly. “That’s not my role anymore.” 

“But you’re so good!” Kaiyo continues to push, despite being left behind by the squadron. Another soldier has broken off to talk to an older man outside his own home, and Yoonji feels her throat close up. “If this really is as inevitable as you think it is - and you could be right! - then we truly need you. Your nation needs you.” 

“My nation,” Yoonji picks her words carefully around the lump in her throat, “decided that I couldn’t continue lessons and become a soldier. I loved training. They made that choice, I didn’t.” 

“In a way,” Kaiyo says uncomfortably, “You kind of did make that choice, Yoonji.” When he emphasizes her name, the ground beneath his feet turns to sheer, slick ice. 

“There was no choice,” Yoonji tells him emotionlessly, though inside anger is gathering like a windstorm. Kaiyo, the first one to talk to her on their first day of bending training, who she’s known since they were both 10. Kaiyo, with his shiny helmet and his eagerness for war, to prove himself. 

No, there was never a choice.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” Kaiyo urges her. “We - I miss you during training. The tribe needs you to make the right choice.” 

“I have children to watch. You’re getting left behind,” she remarks blandly. Inside, she is cold, cold down to the soles of her mukluks. Kaiyo glances up towards his squadron, now twenty feet away, his eyes still pleading. Oh, how her friend has changed. 

“Think about it,” he urges one last time, then jogs to catch up. Yoonji stares at his back, the way his shoulder blades cut lines in his fur-lined tunic. She thinks about her own shoulder in a matching tunic, not so long ago. 

“Noona,” Namhee tugs on the end of her kuspuk. “Who was that?” 

“An old friend,” Yoonji says, bending down to the girl’s height. Namhee stares at her in confusion, her face framed by her braids. She looks so young. Was Yoonji ever this small? Did she ever believe she could truly be a soldier? 

“What did he want?” 

“He wanted me to come play with him.” Yoonji does not want to be the one to explain the concept of war to this child, even though she wouldn’t understand it enough to be scared. “But I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” and now Yoonji paints her face in a reassuring smile, even as she forcibly freezes her churning guts to an icy halt. “I’m too busy playing with you and Insook.” 

“Ah.” Namhee bends down and scoops up another handful of snow. “Noona, make another one!” 

As Yoonji twists her hand to turn the snow to ice once again, she risks one last glance at the retreating squadron. Kaiyo is still at the back of the group, helmet back on his head. Yoonji watches him for a long moment, until he is no longer visible. 

\-----

Jin’s in the kitchen, as always, when Yoonji walks in with more determination than usual. She marches straight out the back door without looking at Jin. The elder shrugs it off as a fairly standard Yoonji sighting; the waterbender is more than diligent, and she tends to stalk around without interacting with anyone else, entirely focused on her task. He continues to roll out the delicate pastry dough he’s been trying to sweet talk for the last five minutes. 

A handful of minutes later, with little progress made with the pastry dough, Yoonji stomps back inside. She stops in the middle of the kitchen, and Jin finally looks at her. She plants her feet on the worn wooden floor.

“You are out of fish in the cellar,” Yoonji informs him. Jin’s brow furrows. 

“We don’t usually keep fish in the cellar, since we don’t bake with it.” 

“Where can I buy fish?” Yoonji asks, crossing her arms like she’s already rethinking whatever plan she’s got in her head. 

“Probably at the market, though I don’t know how fresh it will be.” Jin turns so he’s facing her fully. She waves a hand, like the freshness doesn’t matter. 

“It is your birthday, right?” 

“Yes?” It’s definitely the 4th day of the mid-winter month. Now Jin’s even more lost than before. “Are these two things related?” 

“There is only one customer in the lobby. I am going to the market,” Yoonji informs him, exiting the kitchen once again. 

“You’re technically still on shift!” Jin squawks at her back, but the door is already swinging shut. Jin sighs, looking down at his crumbly pastry dough. 

“I miss the days when she was still intimidated by me, not the other way around,” he tells the dough. The dough says nothing, and stays as dry as it was. Jin sticks his tongue out at it and goes to check on the lobby. 

Yoonji returns about half an hour later, arms laden with a basket full of a strange variety of items. She sets to work in the kitchen, carving out her own space between the bowls and jars that perpetually litter the counter. 

Taehyung stares inquisitively as he comes in for his closing shift, but leaves Yoonji to her own devices. It seems like she knows what she’s doing, boiling a pot of water on the stove with a...tail sticking out of it? Taehyung decides not to ask about that one. 

Jin wanders in again next, when the sun is just setting and Yoonji is scooping handfuls of animal fat from a jar. Jin does a double take at just how much lard she scoops directly into her bowl. 

“What animal did you get all that from?” 

“It’s fox antelope fat,” Yoonji tells him without looking up. “It’ll work as a substitute.” 

“A substitute for what?” Jin’s not sure he wants to know the answer. Yoonji gives him a bored look. Jin throws up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, I just need some jasmine tea and I’m gone.” 

Taehyung pokes his head back in when Yoonji is pouring a mix of berries into her large bowl. He sneaks his hand around the countertop, stealing a berry from her wicker basket. She glares at him, but doesn’t stop his thievery. 

“Whatcha making?” His face twists at the not-unpleasant tang of tart blackberry. It’s too late in the season for blackberries, they must be from the cellar. 

“I’m not sure what you would call it,” Yoonji says, inspecting a berry for bad spots. “But it’s called akutaq where I’m from.”

“It looks like whipped cream, but not,” Taehyung comments. “What’re the flakey chunks in there?” 

“Pike.” Taehyung chokes on how nonchalantly Yoonji is about it. 

“You put fish and berries together? In what, lard?” 

“Yes, with sugar.” Yoonji’s eyes remain fixed on her bowl, but her shoulders are tense. Taehyung realizes he might have come across a little strong. He hasn’t tried whatever she’s made yet anyways, who is he to judge? “We make akutaq for celebrations back home, and since it’s Jin’s birthday…”

“Oh.” Now he feels like even more of an ass. “I think it looks good!” Yoonji rolls her eyes and glares at him. Taehyung winces. “I do! I’d try it, if you’re willing to share.” 

Yoonji appraises him for a moment, questioning whether he’s being serious. He does his best to look earnest. 

“Alright, after Jin tries it,” she finally agrees. “It’s his birthday, and he is the eldest. But I made enough for everyone to have some, if they want.” She takes her bowl and heads for the stairs that lead to the apartment above the Lion Hawk’s Haven, where she currently lives with Jin and Namjoon. Taehyung trots after her after making sure the lobby will be fine for a few minutes. 

“When’s the last time you made aku-akutaq?” he asks, jogging to catch up. 

“Maybe a year or two ago. We don’t make it super often, and there haven’t been as many celebrations recently.” Yoonji climbs the wooden steps to the second level, and Taehyung thinks that birthdays are the first to go during a war. She knocks once on the doorframe, not waiting for a response before entering with her bowl held in front of her. 

“Aren’t you guys on shift?” Namjoon asks them both, an eyebrow raised and hand resting on the handle of the wok on the stove. Yoonji doesn’t answer, and Taehyung just shrugs. Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperated acceptance, shaking his head back and forth.

“This is for Jin, and everyone else too,” Yoonji tells him. Looking at the bowl, Namjoon’s eyebrows climb higher. He jerks his head towards the back of the small apartment. 

“He should be in the bedroom changing out of his work clothes, if you’re looking for him.”

“Who’s looking for me?” Jin’s voice comes from the short hallways, tugging an unfloured shirt over his head. He looks less stressed, softer, standing in his own home and without his usual apron on. But he still carries that air of quiet authority, a presence that has come to comfort Taehyung. Yoonji offers up the bowl. 

“This is akutaq. We make it in the Water Tribes for birthdays and parties. I know it is not traditional for you, but I wanted to make something to show how grateful I am for your kindness. You did not have to treat me with respect after how I acted.” Smiling softly, Jin steps forward and takes the bowl from Yoonji.

“Thank you. You have done more than enough to make up for it. I’d love to try it.” He looks around, and Namjoon dutifully hands him a spoon. “Ah, thanks.” Dipping the spoon into the whipped mixture, Jin scoops up a respectable spoonful, chewing thoughtfully. Several expressions cross his face, but he doesn’t spit it out like Taehyung feared he might.

“You know,” Jin says after swallowing, “this isn’t bad! An acquired taste, but pretty good! What’s in here?” 

“Animal fat, sugar, pike, and blackberries,” Yoonji lists, tapping for each one of the ingredients on her palm. Jin pokes at a chunk of blackberry in the mixing bowl. 

“Huh. So that’s where the fish went.” Taehyung bounces over, ready to reach into the bowl with just his fingers. 

“Can I try some too? Please?”

“Try what?” calls Jungkook. Backlit by the setting sun, Jimin and Jungkook come in through the apartment door carrying that night’s groceries. Namjoon takes some of their load while Jungkook joins Taehyung’s side. “Ooh, what’s that?” 

“Yoonji made akutaq! It’s like bingsu with no ice,” Taehyung pronounces proudly. “Can they have some too?” 

“It’s Jin’s gift,” Yoonji says, deferring to the taller. Jin nods, setting the bowl on the counter with the rest of the dinner dishes.    
  


“You made it to share, we can all have some with dinner.” 

The kitchen is soon full to bursting with sound and movement, with barely enough room to finish cooking the meal. Taehyung dashes back downstairs to flip the front door’s sign to closed, and Jungkook insists that Jin wear a funny-looking, tall hat at dinner to signify his status as birthday boy. 

Looking out over the people seated at his table, none of which are paying attention to him in the slightest, Jin feels something warm grow inside him. This is the best birthday he’s had in recent memory. Last year, with just Namjoon and Hoseok, his birthday had been an enjoyable but unremarkable affair. In some regards, this night is unremarkable as well: this is far from the first time they’ve all sat down to dinner together, laughing and eating at the same table. And yet, Jin treasures this moment all the same, tucking it away somewhere safe in his mind. The war will not take this from him either. 

-

And later: 

“Hey, Yoonji’s never had bingsu!” Jungkook seems almost upset by his own realization, mouth hanging open in shock. Yoonji barely glances up from her sink full of soapy water. 

“That’s ice and milk and fruit, right? I’ve seen people eat it on the street in the summer.” 

“It’s a summer food,” Jungkook agrees, “and there’s a bunch of different types.” 

“There’s patbingsu, injeolmi bingsu, mango bingsu,” Taehyung ticks off the list on his fingers. Jimin makes a face. 

“I don’t like the mango kind,” he whines, kicking his feet up onto the table. Jungkook smiles indulgently at him from the sink, where he rinses the dishes Yoonji has washed. 

“You’ve mentioned that before once. Or twice. Or a dozen times-” Jungkook ducks as Jimin chucks a wooden spoon at his head. Caught in the crossfire, Yoonji bends water from the sink and freezes it midair before it can hit the back of her head. It clatters to the floor, harmless. Jungkook and Taehyung shriek in delight as Jimin tries to apologize. Yoonji waves him off with a hand covered in soap bubbles. 

“You’re so quick, noona!” Taehyung marvels. “You barely had to look before you hit it dead center!”

“Lots of practice,” she assures him, though she blushes at the praise. Jungkook’s eyes shine with the beginnings of hero worship. 

“Do you think you could teach me something similar? To send out a small dart of fire to intercept something?” Jungkook asks. Yoonji frowns, looking down at her pile of unwashed dishes. Her cold exterior is back; Jungkook hadn’t even noticed that it had melted until she had refrozen.

“-We should get bingsu when it gets warm again,” Jimin says placatingly, sensing Yoonji’s glacial discomfort. “Without mangos.” 

“Anything for you, princess,” Taehyung chuckles, and the tension in the room melts. The conversation stays away from heavy topics after that, but Jimin can see Jungkook watch Yoonji from time to time, eyes distant and mouth a thin line. 

Jimin knows Yoonji must have a reason for shutting down after Jungkook's question about bending. He guesses it has something to do with Jungkook being a firebender, some deep-seated discomfort that she hasn’t shaken yet. 

At the beginning, Jimin wanted to hate her. He wanted to hate her so  _ badly _ , and she had probably wanted to hate him too. She had hurt Jungkook, come into their haven with ugly words and cold, cold eyes and Jimin had wanted a face besides the Fire Lord’s to pin all his blame, all his hatred. Yoonji was an outlet, and he tried to hate her, even as she took the shift overlapping Taehyung’s and Hoseok’s. 

He had tried to hate her purposeful speech, the way she twisted water from the sink into a mixing bowl. 

He had tried to hate her as she turned her back whenever he or Jungkook or Namjoon had walked into the room, as she helped Jin permanently freeze parts of the cellar to stay cold in the summer. 

And even now, even as she stands elbow to elbow with Jungkook at the sink, Jimin tries to hate her, even just a little bit. And he can’t really, not now. Not when she tells deadpan jokes and makes them traditional foods and waits tables for Jimin when Jimin has to run to the bathroom.

Jimin wonders if Yoonji still hates him now. He thinks that he could stand that, to discover a bruise on the apple of her heart, a flaw, to have to run again. It’s Jungkook he stands his ground for. He’s not sure Jungkook could stand to run, leave behind this half-finished home and rip themselves free again. He believes in the goodness of the people here, he does. But he also knows that this is war, and war does not let you hide forever. 

He doesn’t want Yoonji to hate Jungkook, because no one should hate Jungkook. He is hopeful and beautiful and unafraid in the face of war and terror and running. Himself, Jimin can understand the loathing for. He still wears red on his parent’s birthdays, says words he does not want to lose, carries habits he cannot forget. But Jungkook is young and kind and no one should ever hate him, least of all a person he admires dearly. 

For better or for much, much worse, Yoonji had made her way into Jimin’s inner circle. He may not like her all the time, but he trusts her to a degree he doesn’t want to admit. She is there, silent and strong and always moving inside his chest, where he keeps the rest of the inhabitants of the Lion Hawk’s Haven. She is there, whether he wants her there or not. And Jimin knows Jungkook feels the same, feels it stronger. 

There is a cease-fire between him and Yoonji, one that he knows keeps Jungkook from leaping forward with love and friendship. He knows his overprotectiveness is partly to blame for Yoonji’s hesitancy with the boy.

There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Jungkook. 

Which is why he approaches her later, when the dishes have been done and dinner has been eaten and Jungkook has been quite distracted by Taehyung and Namjoon’s discussion/bickering. 

She’s standing on the landing outside the apartment door, looking over the backyard that isn’t much of a yard at all. Golden hour, some might call it, even with the little sun they get in the winter. Jimin shoves his hands in his pockets, coming to stand next to her. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, just continues to stare out at the city going to sleep and coming alive. 

“The sun is different here than up north,” she says at last. “Where I am from, the sun barely rises at all in the winter. We live in the night for days sometimes, barely seeing the sun rise before it sets. You get so much of it down here. Too much,” she clicks her tongue. It’s probably the most Jimin’s ever heard her say about the Northern Water Tribe at once. 

“Too much sun? Is that even a thing?” Jimin remarks, his breath coming in wispy clouds. There’s not much snow this far south, even in the grips of winter, but the air still has a deep chill, a frost that covers the shingles above their heads. 

“Sometimes,” Yoonji says thoughtfully. “There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.” They watch the sky fade from pale pink to indigo together, the quiet stretching between them comfortably even as Jimin starts to shiver in his thick coat. 

“I want to say sorry, though I don’t know for what,” Jimin admits. “I suppose it’s for thinking badly of you, but I don’t anymore. Maybe it’s because my people are killing yours, but I haven’t been home in so long, I’m not sure who my people are anymore.” Yoonji doesn’t say anything. Jimin wipes his runny nose and continues. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to hear it, or if you hate me. But I just - Jungkook looks up to you, he does. And this is partly my fault and I can’t change what you’ve gone through, but Jungkook is different. Jungkook is good. And I don’t want him to hurt because of me, ever. And so, I’m sorry.” 

The stars have just become visible when Yoonji says, 

“I don’t hate you. Or Jungkook. I think I wanted to, just as you most likely wanted to hate me. But I don’t think Jin would have tolerated hatred in his home. He simply doesn’t allow it to grow. Jungkook is a good kid. He will be a good man.” 

“He will,” Jimin agrees. Inside, behind them, Jimin can hear the sounds of Namjoon’s voice inflection, the one he uses when he’s explaining something complicated, and Jin’s snide commentary. He can hear Jungkook’s laughter. 

“I understand you might be uncomfortable teaching Jungkook how to firebend with waterbender techniques,” Jimin says, “but I ask that you tell him that. Talk to him, to all of us. We’re all here together.” 

“Here we are,” Yoonji murmurs into the swiftly fading sun, “hiding for the winter. Waiting for the war to end.”

Behind the door, Taehyunng’s baritone rumble interjects, mixing with Jin’s squeaking laughter. Safe as they can be, behind that door. Jimin smiles, his lips hurting in the cold. 

Waiting for the war to end indeed.

\-----

\- 

Jungkook has never seen so much water in his entire life. He stares over the side of the railing, watching the depths of the sea below. It’s disorienting, being off of dry land for so long, without knowing when they’ll be back on land either. A particularly large wave rocks the barge, and Jungkook holds on tighter. The wooden railing beneath his palms is well-worn, rubbed by the white-knuckle grip of thousands of others. He looks down at the dark water and the railing and tries not to think of a thousand other people. 

They say it was unexpected, that they were caught defenseless. They say there are no survivors. They say the avatar has been killed, a child murdered with the rest of his people.

Jungkook feels a familiar sickness rise in his throat that has nothing to do with being at sea. It’s only a week after the news had reached the port town he and Jimin called home, a week since the Great Comet blazed across the sky. The people in the streets had rejoiced the comet’s return, celebrating the blessing gifted upon them. Many firebenders had been out in the streets, showing off their increased power. 

In Jimin’s parent’s house, in the farthest corner from the noise of the street, Jungkook and Jimin had sat with crossed legs, facing one another. 

“Do you want to try it?” Jimin’s voice is barely more than a whisper. Jungkook had shaken his head violently, face pale. 

“I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to lose control.” He had looked down at his hands. The fire just beneath the surface, always there when he called upon it, was stronger today than usual. Jungkook could feel it begging, leaking from his pores, from the love and life lines in his palm. 

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” Jimin tells him, tucking a lock of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear. It’s getting long, showing his transition from boy to man. Jimin’s own hair had been in a bun for several months now, reaching his mid-back. Jungkook’s is only to his shoulders, but he already looks so grown up. Like a real man.

Except when manhood equals war, what man hides in the shadows from power?

“I would never,” assures Jungkook. “I couldn’t. I just. I don’t want to lose the fear, to think I’m stronger than everyone else and to want to take things from them.” 

“The firelord is stronger than anyone else,” says Jimin. “And he does take things from people all the time.” 

“This isn’t taxes, Jimin, this is land! These are villages and lives and-” he cuts himself off, eyes darting towards the ruckus on the street. “There’s talk of an invasion. Of, of genocide.” Jimin’s face is pale in the stark orange light coming through the window. The fire burns inside Jungkook’s wrists and he suppresses it violently. Not tonight. Not when people might have been slaughtered by this fire. 

“What could we do? What can we possibly do?” Jimin’s voice has risen from his hushed whisper into something more frantic, helpless. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know, can we stay here?” Jungkook looks hopefully up at Jimin. He’s always looked up to the older, the one with all the answers, the one with a promising future. 

“They could recruit you Kookie, they always want firebenders and you’ve just become of age.” Jimin closes his eyes and tries to think. “I’m sure my parents wouldn’t let them take you though, I’m sure we could come up with something. The war is so far away from here.” Jungkook is shaking his head, eyes wide and sad and orange in the hazy glow. 

“It’s like you said. The firelord takes what he wants, and he’ll take me.” Jimin’s thumb brushes away nonexistent tears under Jungkook’s eye. “He’ll take me away from you.” 

“Never.” Jimin’s voice is one part immovable conviction and one part absolute terror. “We won’t be separated like that.” His fingers flutter around Jungkook’s

“My parents,” chokes Jungkook, “don’t think we should be together. Anymore.” Jimin freezes, the world coming to a stop even as the people shout in the streets.

“I thought they didn’t mind. That they liked my family,” Jimin is incredulous, his shock all the more sharp in the contrasting light. 

“They do.” And now there are tears rolling down Jungkook’s face, though he doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s  _ us _ they don’t like. The fact we can’t have children, provide the next generation.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“They’ve been reading all these fliers and pamphlets, an’ they keep saying all these things like, “you need to think about the future,” and “you have to pass on your bloodline so there are more firebenders.” 

“Oh,” Jimin exhales, a horribly cold realization. “It’s not just that I’m a man, it’s that I’m a nonbender.” Jungkook nods, head hung in shame. “Oh, Kookie-” 

“I told them I would never-” Jungkook hiccups, his hair swinging low in a curtain over his eyes, “- _ ever  _ leave you. Not to make children into soldiers, or to pass along my bending.” And even in the harsh light, Jimin’s eyes are deep and sad and angry, deeper than the water Jungkook stares into. 

The boat rocks him out of the memory, and still he traces the white lines left on the ocean’s surface, running infinitely behind them leading back to shore. They've been aboard the barge for three days now, with another week or so left in the journey. 

Jungkook doesn’t feel bad about running. The echo of the fireworks from the night of the comet have wrung in his ears ever since, sounding like a number. One thousand. One thousand. One thousand.

One thousand air nomads dead. And Jungkook is running, covering up his red tunic with a universal brown cloak, clutching only Jimin’s hand and a canvas bag. No, he doesn’t feel bad about running. He feels the guilt of not  _ staying _ . 

The Fire Isles are what he has known, has been shaped by. It’s where his mother and father and brother still live, under the only roof Jungkook has ever dreamed under. At the first sign of trouble, he has taken what he deemed necessary and left behind the streets and mountains and colors. Does that make his family unnecessary? Will he ever be able to see them again? Will he speak his language with his mother and hug his brother even just once more in his lifetime? 

He is terrified to the marrow of his bones of never returning, of losing everything that’s made his identity so far. But there are a thousand dead and an army marching to war and Jungkook cannot be there anymore, not for a second. 

It’s a debilitating realization, to feel forced out of one’s home. There’s still attachment, still lingering strings desiring to tie him back down. There’s some unreasonable part of him that won’t listen to numbers that yearns for familiarity. 

“Hey, you okay?” Jimin’s hand is gentle on his shoulder. Jungkook keeps his eyes on the moving water. 

“Yeah.” 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“What would happen if the boat crashed.” Jimin shoves playfully at Jungkook’s shoulder, rocking him with the motions of the boat. 

“Don’t say that! You’ll make it happen!” But when they settle, Jimin is smiling softly at Jungkook, and that’s familiar. That’s something that can settle Jungkook’s stomach. 

“I’m just kidding.” Jungkook returns to staring down at the dark water, but this time Jimin’s hand is on top of his on the railing. It helps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the resource I used for akutaq (I've never eaten it myself, but I've been meaning to try it): http://www.ankn.uaf.edu/npe/culturalatlases/virtualmuseum/writings/native%20food/CDBA8EEB-52C9-4788-AF0F-56C8B2AD1EE3.html
> 
> Yoonji as a trans woman was an intentional choice. I don't think that trans identity should be viewed solely through a lense of pain and loss. The greater themes of this fic just happened to align with loss and change, and I hoped to emphasize those themes with Yoonji, without making her trans identity her only trait. Clearly I have Thoughts about this so if you want to get into it in the comments or leave constructive criticism, please feel more than welcome to do so. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Comments/kudos are always greatly appreciated!
> 
> Find me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/sunstarsseokjin


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Sweethearts!
> 
> This is it, arguably the climax of the fic! After this chapter, which I should mention is more intense than the others, we'll just have the epilogue. Hope you enjoy this penultimate showdown!
> 
> Content warning for discrimination (?) and canon typical violence (canon typical for A:tLA, not BTS haha)! Be safe!

“Hyung!”

“Hm?” Jin turns away from the window, standing up straight. Taehyung stands behind him, an empty teapot in one hand and the other hand on his hip. 

“I’ve called your name like five times,” Taehyung smiles, his eyes concerned. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.” Jin collects his tray and rag from the windowsill where he had been lost in thought. 

“Leave the poor man alone,” remarks Yoonji, coming in the front door. Jin hadn’t even seen her walk past the front window. She brushes the light dusting of snowflakes from her shoulders and fixes her hair away from her face. “He’s probably just tired. Spirits know the early dark makes us all a little sleepy.” 

“I know, right?” exclaims Taehyung, not looking very sleepy at all. “It makes me want to curl up under a warm blanket and sleep.” 

“Speaking of warm things, please put another pot on to boil. People like hot drinks when the weather gets like this.” Yoonji gestures upward, hand curled as if she is lifting a heavy cloud. She’s right, it’s been densely grey all day today, and their customers have been ordering more hot things than usual. 

“Gotcha.” Taehyung wanders off towards the kitchen. Jin stretches and considers following him, but Yoonji interrupts his thoughts. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

“I’m not sure.” Jin glances back out the window. Snow has started to gather on the planters outside the window, where Hoseok likes to plant irises and shrub althea. The planters are empty now, lined with frost and little bits of dead leaves. Jin finds it surprisingly difficult to imagine the delicate green shoots there once more, lining his windows with a lively green. It’s hard to picture such green when the world is all gray, when they’re all curled up, ready for the winter wind.

“You know,” Yoonji says, coming to stand next to him. “We have a saying in the Northern Water Tribe. ‘When the winter comes and the earth sleeps, something inside wakes up.’”

“Huh.” He turns to look at her, the window at his back, the world moving behind his head. “What’s been woken up in you, you reckon?” She stares right back, snowflakes still stuck to her hair but melting fast.

“I think that maybe, some of my many beasts went to sleep instead.” She gives Jin a final, fleeting grin before following Taehyung into the kitchen. 

“You’re a wild one, Min Yoonji! Are you sure your beasts ever sleep?” Jin calls after her, an unsuspecting smile on his face. She merely waves and doesn’t turn around. The rest of the patrons sip their steaming cups and ignore Jin; they’ve long grown used to the sound of his voice and the tone of his jokes. He can hear Taehyung’s laughter through the kitchen door as Yoonji enters, the clatter of a pot lid. He hears Yoonji fake a growl and more chatter, the sounds of a busy kitchen and a busy home.

Jin sighs and looks back out the window at the monochrome world. There’s something coming, he can feel it. Maybe it’s not external, maybe the oncoming storm is something inside himself; what’s been hiding has been awoken. 

Whatever it is, he has tables to clean. Jin picks up his rag and moves away from the window. He does not look back. 

In the pit of his stomach, something starts to smoulder.

\-----

It’s the dead of winter when it comes, just after Taehyung’s birthday. 

The sun is setting earlier and earlier, casting long shadows across the cold ground. There aren’t quite the dramatic snow drifts of the poles - they’re too far south for the kind of winter Yoonji is used to - but there’s a definite cold in the air, a stillness to the earth. 

The season affects them all differently. The firebenders tend to bundle up, used to warmer weather. His first winter this far north, Jungkook finds himself itching for the sun, taking all his breaks during the brief few hours it hangs in the sky and standing in the weak light, soaking in whatever he can get on the back porch. Namjoon is used to the change in daylight after years of life in Gaoling. He makes spiced tea for Jungkook and Jimin in the mornings, when it’s coldest.

The earth benders have exhaustion on their tails, an ever-present desire to sink into temporary hibernation. Taehyung, usually the sleepless dreamer, can be found slumping over his mop during the later hours of his shifts. Even Hoseok’s bright personality is tempered by the earth’s slumber. His own motions are slower, more methodical, and he often takes naps after his opening shift at the Lion Hawk’s Haven. 

Yoonji is the one who seems to thrive the most during this time. Perhaps it’s the familiarity of the cold, or how she’s been warming up to their little group day by day. Perhaps it’s the longer hours of moonlight, the sliver of pale yellow that seems to linger longer and longer the colder that it gets outside. She nudges Taehyung awake and gives a wry, grateful smile skyward as she finishes closing the bakery. 

And Jin? He’s just trying to keep them all warm and awake, keep them together. 

But with three of them bearing the weight of too much night, and another two feeling fatigued, it’s no surprise that they’re all caught unaware. 

Though the earth may be asleep, there have been more and more people in the street. The men who went to war were supposed to be back by this winter. People are restless with the shorter days, frustrated with the cold and the war. 

Jin’s seen several non-regulars walk in and out of the bakery over the last week. It’s not unusual, but these people don’t seem to be looking for tea or a loaf of bread. Most of them are teenage boys, barely over the edge of manhood; too young to be soldiers but old enough to feel the pressure, the call to arms. Jin watches them careful from the tables he wipes down, eyeing the way they whisper amongst themselves and nod subtly towards Jungkook behind the counter. 

It could be homophobia, sure. Jin’s dealt with his small share of ignorance or angry people over the years, but most people in this small village couldn’t care either way. But Jin doesn’t like the way they stand with their shoulders up, like a boney wall that turns the rest of the world out, sharp and stubborn and scared. Scared boys and scared men do awful things. 

It’s the middle of the afternoon. The sun is half an orange on the horizon, and the deep purple shadows grow in the corners that the small candles on each table don’t reach. Taehyung has just started his shift, Jungkook and Jimin in the kitchen finishing up the clean-up from the lunch rush. Taehyung hums as he restocks the basket of hard honey candies they keep at the counter during the cold months, not paying much attention to their almost empty lobby. He hears Jimin’s mocking tone, full of an unfamiliar accent. He only slips into dialect when he’s mumbling sleepily into Jungkook’s shoulder or teasing his partner. Taehyung smiles. 

The front door swings open forcefully, hitting the wall behind it with a thump. Taehyung jolts, as do the one or two people seated at the tables. A group of mostly young men, with some older men and women, stand in their lobby, snaking out the door. Taehyung feels something shift in the air, a quiet little warning from the sleepy soil under his feet. 

“You have fire benders who work here.” It’s the young man at the front of the group, clearly the leader of this gathering. It’s less of a question and more of an accusation. If Taehyung would have been listening for it, he would have heard the kitchen go deathly silent behind him. 

“Can I get you anything to eat or drink?” Taehyung asks instead of answering. His fingers tighten on the counter. The young men in the crowd shift their weight from foot to foot; impatient, anxious. The leader takes a step forward. 

“You’re not a fire bender, are you?” His words are assertive, acidic. Taehyung plants his feet and glares at the group. 

“And if I was?” He prays to whatever spirits are listening that Jungkook and Jimin stay in the kitchen and keep quiet. Of all the people to be in the back when this happens…

The young man gives another boy behind him a look and commanding nod.

“I think they need a little incentive to reveal what they can do.” Off his nod, the boy - spirits he can’t be older than 15 - takes a stance and brings his fists up. A spike of earth the size of Taehyung’s torso rips its way through the wooden floorboards, sending shards of wood and stone in every direction. The people in the lobby scream and dive under the tables, taking cover. 

“Hey!” 

Taehyung leaps around the counter and shoves at the boy. He wants these people out of his bakery where his family lives. The leader steps between them, pushing Taehyung backwards and taking a swing. Taehyung hears another scream and gets socked in the jaw. The world is a little hazy after that, but he was born with the molten core of the earth in his bones: it will take more than a good hit or two to take him out of a fight. 

Taehyung pushes forward with his whole body and sends a ripple of earth outward, pushing the mob back towards the door. He may not have fine motor control of his bending, but it has always responded strongly to his call. 

The mob is scattered back, but not for long. Another young man, broad-shouldered and large-handed, steps in front of their leader and takes another swing. Taehyung manages to dodge his fist and aim his own punch into the man’s stomach. But he’s not so lucky the next time, when another large fist bashes into the back of his head. 

“No!”

Taehyung goes down to a knee, head swimming from the hit. He’s hit again with a kick that sends him onto his back and gasping for air, and then there are feet over his prone body, boots marching past the kitchen doors. 

There’s shouting, and Taehyung catches a harried glimpse of Jungkook, palms lit, eyes terrified and igneous. Jimin is behind him, with too many scared, angry men in front of them. Jungkook’s mouth is open in a silent roar that Taehyung can’t quite hear, but he has to help them, has to get to his feet.

“Watch him!” 

As he tries to scramble onto his feet, another kick keeps him on the floor. Snarling, Taehyung slaps a hand to the floor and sends a chunk of rock at his attacker’s legs. The man yelps and falls. Taehyung gets a knee underneath him, and then something else slams into his head again and he crumples. 

He sees a shadow on the floor, strangers backlit by fire. In the distance, someone is crying out, voice breaking on a name. There are boots marching on the floor, someone in their arms struggling like a wild animal and glowing. 

Are people supposed to glow like the sun? He needs to move. Can he get up?

Another stranger almost trips over his body, pushing him several inches across the floor. At this new angle, he’s facing away from the door. 

There’s a broken plate on the floor. There are several pieces of delicate, clean porcelain on the floor. Namjoon will be so mad. In fact, he thinks he hears Namjoon’s name, again and again, then a horrible thump as everything quickly goes black.

-

Jin has never had the pull of the earth to ground him, the flames of inspiration to guide him, or water’s stubborn consistency. His body has always been his own, flesh and blood and not much else. 

He imagines this is what losing your bending would feel like. He feels utterly ungrounded, destabilized. Something is missing.

Taehyung sits up against the counter, holding his head. Beside him is Jimin, tear-stained and bleeding from his temple. He clutches at Taehyung’s shoulder, seemingly overwhelmed and lost for words.

Jin had been in the apartment when there had been a knock at the door. Before he could even think to answer it, the door had been forced open - they never had felt the need to lock it, not with Jungkook who liked to run up the stairs to deliver them rejected pastries, not with their family just below their feet - and swarmed into the apartment. Jin had been on his feet, but there was little he could do. They knew him, nonbender Kim Seokjin who grew up in Gaoling. It wasn’t him they were after. 

While they held him down, they had dragged Namjoon from the kitchen. To his credit, Namjoon put up one hell of a fight, throwing fiery kicks and pushing people away with fire. And even till he was pulled from the doorframe, his every aim was nonlethal. Though he could have lit these people on fire, he chose not to. 

Jin thinks now that he wishes Namjoon had killed or maimed a few of these fuckers. 

Jin had rushed down the stairs as soon as he was free, but it was too late. The front lobby was in shambles, and Taehyung was stirring on the floor. And Jungkook and Namjoon were gone. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so angry in his life. Something molten in his chest roars, like a beast torn from its helpless sleep.

“We have to get them, hyung,” Taehyung begs from the floor. Jimin nods, fists clenched. Jin surveys the splintered floor of his bakery, his home. People from the block are already starting to peer inside the broken front door, curious about the sudden commotion. 

“We will. But we’re gonna need help.” 

-

Later, Taehyung will hold her hand tightly and call her luminous. Ethereal. Terrifying. 

But right now, Yoonji doesn’t feel like any of those things. 

“Where would they take them?” she demands, jogging with Jimin back to the bakery. She had been in her little rented home on the edges of town, eating dinner and preparing to head over to the cafe for her evening shift. Jimin’s face had been enough to get her running.

“I don’t know.” Jimin’s eyes are red and he has a bandage around his head, but Yoonji can’t recall a time she’s ever seen him so determined. “Jin says he might know, he went to get Hoseok. We’re gonna need all the firepower we can get.” He gives her a smile more like a snarl. “Well, waterpower in your case.” 

“Why?” She thinks she knows, but she wants to hear it out loud. 

“Because they’re firebenders.” Even as they move quickly through the center of town, Jimin curls his lip and looks at her with those puffy eyes. “Would you do the same? If it was your city?”

“I…” She doesn’t know, and isn’t that an awful thought? If it had been the Northern Water Tribe, she wouldn’t have made the effort to meet these boys, wouldn’t have been carved into the shape she inhabits now. She wants to say no. She wants to say she would have always done the right thing. 

But what is the right thing, when you have dead family members and smoke in the air? What do you do when you are scared? 

“I will save them now,” she says decisively, “in  _ this _ city.” Jimin nods, mirroring her fortitude. They make it to the bakery, and Yoonji has to remember to contain her anger at the sight of the broken front door, the ripples in the earth from the defensive bending. There’s a crowd outside, but no one attempts to go inside. Yoonji shoulders her way through the crowd of onlookers and heads inside. 

Jin and Hoseok are already there, Hoseok applying a salve and bandage to Taehyung’s arm. When she sees Taehyung’s bruised face, Yoonji feels something inside her shift, like the calving of a glacier. Without a second thought, she twists her hand and freezes a stream of water from her waterskin into a rough oblong shape. Swiping a cloth napkin off one of the waylaid tables, she wraps up the ice and hands it to Taheyung. 

“Put this where it hurts,” she instructs, “especially if you hit your head.” Taehyung looks up at her, his eyes clear despite the pain he must be in. 

“We think they’ve been taken to the local jail. With a mob of witnesses that big, they can just claim they saw all the firebenders conspiring with each other.” Jin says, gesturing to Hoseok beside him.

“And we’re really gonna break into the jail to get them out?” Hoseok looks stricken. “Can’t we appeal it or bail them out?”

“Here’s what will happen,” Yoonji says sharply. “They get put in prison for treason, for threatening to bring soldiers into the city. Bail is too high for anyone to ever get them out. With all the witnesses from the mob, the courts find them guilty in a matter of weeks. The families in power have no sympathy when they think their power and legacy are threatened, so they get no mercy. They’re either killed or shipped off to a high security prison for Fire Nation spies. We never see them again.” Jimin chokes when he hears this last sentence, as if the very thought of Jungkook being gone forever has struck him in the lung. Hoseok, still white as a sheet, nods in agreement. 

“This was done by a renegade mob,” Jin tries to stabilize the plan of action. “So we return the favor in kind. We take them back by force, hurting as few people as possible.”

“What happens to the bakery?” Taehyung asks in a quiet voice. “Will you run away with Namjoon and Jungkook an’ Jimin?” The room goes silent. Jimin is biting his lip and looking at his shoes. Hoseok’s hands are at his collarbones, nervously fluttering as his eyes dart between all of them. Jin has this look of resolute acceptance, though he seems unbearably sad to leave the Lion Hawk’s Haven behind. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Jin offers at last. “First, we need to get our boys back.”

“If you’re running,” Taehyung says as he gets to his feet, “then I’m going with you.” 

“I am too,” Yoonji states, daring someone to object. Hoseok looks between them all, then sighs. 

“I’ll come with you guys. We’ll do this all together,” Hoseok straightens his shoulders, drawing strength from his feet planted firmly on the floor.

As they exit the broken door together, Jin bumps shoulders with Yoonji. 

“Never thought I would be marching to war next to a waterbender,” he remarks, his light tone hiding the steel in his voice.

“Never thought I would be marching to war next to a non-bender,” she shoots right back. Jin smiles, and Yoonji feels a little less like drowning the whole town in a tsunami wave. 

Jin notices how she watches the back of Taehyung’s head as they walk through the streets. She really has grown close to the younger over the last months, hasn’t she? It’s the same reason Jimin keeps his eyes forward, staring unseeingly down the darkened streets. 

_ We look ahead for love _ , Jin thinks, recalling Namjoon’s dimples and Jungkook’s wide eyes and keeping his own eyes on the road ahead. 

-

Jungkook has always been the one with the fire inside of him, figuratively and literally. Jimin remembers turning six, then seven, then eight, and still no flames answered his call. He remembers Jungkook running to his house, excitedly telling Jimin how he had caught the bed sheets on fire just two weeks after his seventh birthday. He remembers swallowing his bitter envy the moment he saw how happy Jungkook was, how hopeful. 

Jungkook has always been the spark, the warmth of the hearth, the embers of change. Jimin would do anything to make him happy, to get him back. He may not have any bending, but he can hold his own in a fight. He plans on taking out just as many of these thugs as Yoonji or Taehyung does. 

The walls around the jail are high, but Taehyung and Hoseok aren’t deterred. With a shared nod, they swing their clenched fists in sync and a large gap appears. Jin waves away the dust from the rubble. Their clock is counting down from now. Already, he can hear noise from down the street as people poke their heads outside, curious about the sudden commotion. Jimin is already moving through the gap, Yoonji close on his heels. 

“The main holding cells should be straight ahead, in the main building,” Hoseok hollers from where he takes the rear, fists up and ready to create a defensive wall if needed. 

“Hey you! Stop right there!” Several guards in uniform rush towards them from the nearest guard tower, yellow light spilling out onto the sand from the door they just ran out of. Yoonji immediately steps between them and Jimin, who continues to move forward.

“Don’t stop!” she calls to Jin. “Find them!” Drawing the water from the waterskin at her hip, she sends a volley of ice spikes at the squadron of guards, who throw up a wall of earth to block it. 

“Keep going,” Jin urges Hoseok, breaking into a run behind Jimin and Taehyung. More noise comes from around the prison complex, doors opening as more guards are drawn to the sudden clamour in the courtyard. 

Jin knows too well that they’re outnumbered, a dozen to one. But they have the element of surprise on their side; no one expects the staff of a bakery to try and break into the prison at twilight, least of all a waterbender at their side. They just need to get to the main complex and get out, fast. The clock is counting down, counting each of Jin’s ribs, counting the space between each heartbeat. He prays to the spirits that it’s enough.

One soldier, faster than the rest of his squadron, makes a dash for the group. Taehyung sends a medium boulder flying at him, and the two engage in combat. Jimin’s still running, the reckless bastard. Jin tears after him. The soldier stomps and tries to trap Jimin’s feet in liquid earth, but Hoseok shouts and a veritable wave of soil rises up to stop the movement. Distracted by the new opponent, the soldier doesn’t manage to block Taehyung’s next boulder, which knocks him clean off his feet. 

“C’mon,” urges Hoseok, running after Jin and Jimin. Taehyung hesitates, looking back to where Yoonji battles six guards about 50 feet behind them. She looks like a vengeful water spirit, a spiral of ice and water wrapped around her body that shoots darts at whoever gets close. At the wave of her hand, an arm of water reaches out and snaches a guard up by the leg. The arm rears back and sends the man flying into another guard. Her hair sticks to her forehead, her breath clouded in front of her, and Taehyung thinks,  _ Luna _ . 

“Let’s go!” shouts Jin from a dozen feet ahead, and all three of them run to catch up with the group. 

-

The door to the prison office is kicked open, the earthen door frame cracking in places. The prison warden looks up from the desk, startled but ready to fight off whatever is coming. Perhaps it’s another riot, or a prisoner with a grudge who escaped their cell?

Through the dust and rubble steps a tall, broad-shouldered man steps through. He’s well-groomed and dressed in an apron; he doesn’t look like any criminal the prison warden has ever seen. Behind him, three young men and a young woman step through the crumbling doorway. No one makes a move to attack him.

“Hello,” the first man greets, with a polite smile that shows his molars. “We’re breaking in to get two of our friends. We believe they’ve been arrested without cause.” 

“You can’t-” the warden starts, standing from his desk. He’s interrupted by a tentacle of water that twists itself around his hands and freezes them to the desk. He tries to pull free, but the ice is too thick. The young woman glares at him, and her eyes are colder than the ice she wields. 

“Where are the firebenders being kept?” the first man continues, as if nothing had been said. 

“The firebenders were rounded up and put in the deepest wing, for conspiring against the earth king! You can’t do this! Free me at once!” The warden feels the earth beneath his feet buckle, sending him to his knees with his hands still trapped on his desk above. He hears footsteps, and looks up to see the leader of these renegades gazing down at him with that frustratingly polite expression. 

“I challenge you to find proof of that conspiracy. But until then, we’ll be taking them home with us.” The man bends to take the keys off the warden’s belt. The warden kicks out with his leg, but the movement is stopped by what feels like ropes. He looks down to see a tangle of roots holding his foot at a strange angle, immobilizing him. One of the young men in the group shakes his head. 

“He’s no help, hyung.” He pulls up with a hand, causing more roots and soil to wrap further up the warden’s legs. Pinned by roots and ice, the warden finds he’s thoroughly trapped. The aproned man grabs the keys from the warden and stands.

“Oh, I’d say he was plenty of help,” the man remarks, twirling the keys. He’s not smiling anymore. 

“What do you want?” snarls the warden, a rabbit in a trap. “Who are you?”

“I’m a baker,” answers the man simply. “And I want to take my family home.”

“You’ll find us at the Lion Hawk’s Haven, we’re open till 11 on weekdays,” chirps another young man over his shoulder as he leaves. “On weekends, we’re only open till 10.” The warden gapes at him incredulously.

The third young man, the one with a bandage tied around his head from a recent wound, just glares at the warden and doesn’t say anything. The group leaves the office the way they came, following behind their leader. The warden stares after them, overwhelmed by what just occurred. 

“Sir!” Several guards burst into the room, just a few moments after the renegades had taken their leave. “What’s happening? Who attacked you?” 

“A waterbender, a gardener, and a baker,” the warden says weakly, staring at the open door. Outside, the sky is dark as twilight fades into true night. His family, the baker had said. 

“Huh,” says the warden, then he shakes his head. “Someone get me out of this ice!”

-

Namjoon is angry. 

Scratch that, Namjoon is  _ furious _ .

There’s an undercurrent of terror, fear freezing up his spine and keeping him from moving in the way he would like. But right now he’s too frantic to let himself ice over. He has a home to get back to. He has Jungkook to protect. He can’t allow himself to turn to stone. 

They’ve been put in heavy iron shackles that contain their entire hands. Namjoon supposes that one could try to melt the metal, but it would take time and firepower he doesn’t possess, and the molten iron would burn his hands. 

“Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice cracks in the semi-darkness of the cell. He sounds so young. Namjoon never thought his heart would break, but right now it feels like metal that’s been cooled too fast; ready to crack. “What’s gonna happen to us?” 

“Us” being the four other fire benders in the cell with them, also wearing those awful shackles. Two are men just older than Namjoon, one is a very old woman, and one is a girl, a child. She looks barely 13, on the cusp of adolescence and adulthood. She huddles in the corner closest to the old woman, who keeps her head high and her eyes shut from what must be an uncomfortable seat on the unforgiving stone. 

“I don’t know,” Namjoon mutters back. The two other men look like they want to fight their way out, and Namjoon can’t blame them. He wants to do the same, to rip into these guards and show them just how dangerous he can be, make them sorry for ever taking these people, this  _ child _ , in the middle of the night. 

But he doesn’t want scared men’s blood on his hands, not when Jungkook needs him to be a rock, be a teacher. The heat of anger will not melt these chains. 

He can’t be everything for everyone at once. He cannot fix the entire world in a single breath, as much as he would like to. What he can do is right now, here in this cell.

Namjoon catches the gaze of the girl looking at him, the whites of her eyes flashing in the dark as she quickly looks away. Her breathing is picking up speed. 

She reminds Namjoon of his cousin, who was a baby when he left and must be all grown up now in the Fire Isles. 

“What’s your name,” Namjoon calls gently. The girl looks up at him, confirming whether it’s her that he’s asking.

“Ong Myunghwa,” the girl says, holding her chin in a dignified way she must have picked up from her mother. Trying to look older. Trying to look confident. 

“When did the fire answer your call?” 

“Six years ago,” she answers, looking at her hands. 

“You must have been very brave when it appeared.” Namjoon keeps his voice friendly, as if they were in the market square and not under unlawful imprisonment. “I remember being scared of my bending. I burned the leg of the dinner table.”

“You did?” Myunghwa looks up at him. She can’t be older than 13 years old, for fucks sake. The old woman next to her still has her eyes shut, but Namjoon knows she’s listening. 

“I did,” Namjoon confirms. “But I’m not scared of my bending anymore.” 

“Why not?” Now the two older men are looking at Namjoon as well. Namjoon swallows thickly. Now they are all expecting an answer from him. 

How do we not fear the power to destroy in our hands? How do we not fear being persecuted for something we don’t have control of? How can we ever go home? Will we ever go home? 

“Because,” Namjoon tells her, “I know where my heart lies. All I have to do is follow where it leads, because it will always take me home.”

At that moment, there’s a sudden clamour in the hall. Namjoon glances up just in time to see a fist covered in rock punch a hole in the lock of the door keeping them trapped. The fist pulls back, and Namjoon catches sight of a familiar apron. 

“Hello, we’re here for Jungkook and Namjoon-ah!” calls a cheery voice. The door swings open as Jin speaks, revealing the rest of the Lion Hawk’s Haven staff. Jungkook is immediately struggling to his feet, Jimin already at his side. Jimin spares Namjoon a quick once-over before he returns his full attention to his partner. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Namjoon gets to his feet as well, facing Jin as the group enters the cell. The rest of the firebenders in the cell also stand, unsure of how to proceed. 

“You didn’t have to come break us out, you know,” Namjoon tells him. “It might have been fine.” 

“Actually, we did have to,” Jin brushes him off. “No sense in you sitting in a cell all night for no reason. No sense in letting this become a recurring event.” Namjoon smiles at him, and then they’re hugging. Namjoon’s never been so glad to tuck his nose into Jin’s shoulder once more; Jin smells like sweat and honey and rose petals. 

“Is this everyone?” Hoseok looks around the room, counting the six of them. Yoonji’s already fiddling with the iron shackles around Jungkook’s wrists, using her bending to try and pick the lock. 

“I think so,” Namjoon confirms. Myunghwa is on her feet by now, looking at all of them in awe. 

“Are all of you firebenders?” Taehyung grins at the girl and crouches to her level, floating a potato-sized piece of rubble above his palm with his bending. 

“Nah, we’ve got a real mixed up group here.” He turns to face the old woman, who’s still on the ground. “Are you alright, halmeonim?” 

“I’ll be alright,” she reassures him, but Namjoon doesn’t like the pallor to her skin. Yoonji hisses as she successfully gets the shackles off Jungkook, and moves onto Namjoon.

“Are we going home?” Myunghwa asks, shifting her weight nervously. 

“What’s to say they won’t arrest us again?” asks one of the men. 

“I don’t think they’ll come again tonight at least,” Jin says. “We left a...pretty large trail of reasons why it would be a bad idea. No fatalities,” he adds off of Namjoon’s expression. 

“I can take Eunsuk-eomeonim home,” the second man offers, gesturing to the old woman. “We live on the same block.” Namjoon hears a click, and his shackles fall off his wrists. He nods a grateful thank you to Yoonji, who moves to unlock the first man.

“Do you know where you live?” Jin asks Myunghwa. She nods. 

“Did they take the rest of your family, or just you?” Jungkook pipes up, still stuck like glue to Jimin’s side. 

“Just me,” Myunghwa tells him. “But they hit my dad and broke a window. I don’t know if they’ll still be there.” Namjoon clenches his fist and tries not to let his rage slip through his fingers. 

“You can come with us,” Jin offers. “While you wait with Namjoon-hyung in the bakery, we can find your family.” Yoonji, getting faster each time, has both men freed and hurries to Myunghwa. The girl takes a step back, clearly unsure about having this strange woman so close to her. 

“My name is Yoonji,” Yoonji says softly, undeterred. “I’m a waterbender. Have you ever met a waterbender before?” Myunghwa shakes her head. “Well, I’m also a special type of waterbender, because I trained up in the Northern Water Tribe.” 

As she speaks, she takes the shackles and starts to fiddle with them, her movements broadcasted and intentional. “Most waterbenders can make ice, but because I’m from a place made out of ice, I’m really, really good at keeping part of the water frozen, and some liquid.”

With another quiet click, the shackles fall off Myunghwa’s wrists. The girl rubs her wrists, looking at Yoonji in reverence. The waterbender stands and gives her a rare smile, going to unlock the final pair of shackles on Eunsuk. 

“We gotta go,” Hoseok says, looking out the door. “It’s quiet now, but it’s not gonna stay that way for long.” 

“You’re right,” Jungkook says, and now he doesn’t look like a child anymore. He looks like a leader. “Are we ready to go?” Another click, and the shackles come off Eunsuk’s wrists. She looks Yoonji dead in the eyes. 

“Thank you, dear,” she rasps. Yoonji’s eyes go wide, but she merely nods politely and goes to stand next to Taehyung and Jin. Namjoon offers Myunghwa a hand, which she takes after only a moment’s pause.

“We stick together till we reach the outside wall, then we split up,” Jin commands, at the head of their sizable group. They move swiftly through the empty halls, the echoes of loud voices and steel bouncing off the walls from in the distance. The clock is still ticking, but they barely have enough time now. Yoonji and Taehyung flank Jin, Hoseok and one of the firebender men at the rear, and everyone else in between. Myunghwa is biting her lip to stay quiet, moving as lightly as she can. Namjoon swears to himself to get her back to her family, to return her home. 

They manage to get all the way to the outer wall, the one Taehyung and Hoseok broke through just a handful of minutes before. It’s only due to their swiftness that more guards haven’t gathered yet, caught off guard by the speed of the attack. Jin ushers the group through the hole they had left behind, helping the man lift Eunsuk over some of the larger rocks when she can’t move fast enough by herself. They’re so close, they’re almost there-

But outside the wall, people have noticed, and there’s a crowd gathered just beyond the hole. 

“Stop right there!” A familiar, ugly voice stops Tahyung in his tracks. He looks up to see the scowling face of the young man from earlier, the seeming leader of the posse that broke into the Lion Hawk’s Haven. “I told you all the firebenders were conspiring against us! This is proof of their guilt!” The rest of the people gathered shift nervously and nod along.

“They’re innocent!” Taehyung shouts back. “They took a child! An old woman! They didn’t investigate shit, you just found out they were firebenders.” Myunghwa clutches harder to Namjoon’s hand. 

“We don’t have time for this,” mutters Hoseok, as Jungkook darts forward. 

“This is for smashing the windows of our bakery!” and punches the man straight in the stomach. The young man hunches over, clearly shocked by the blow. “And this is for Jimin!” This time, he kicks one of the man’s legs, sending him down to his knees. 

“Jungkook!” Jin calls sharply. Jungkook snaps to look back at Jin, his breathing ragged and his face flushed. He looks like he might cry any second. “We can go home now. Let’s go.” 

Jungkook takes a hesitant step back from the man on his knees, looking between Jin and the gathered crowd, who have watched this whole exchange silently. Then he takes another step, then another, staggering back to Jimin’s arms. Hoseok rubs his shoulder in sympathy. 

“If anyone knows the family of Ong Myunghwa,” Namjoon calls to the crowd as the girl clings to his arm, “tell them they can find their daughter safe and sound at the Lion Hawk’s Haven.” 

With that, Jin and Yoonji push through the crowd, which parts easily for their group to pass. Everyone stands and watches them pass, seemingly shocked by the night’s events. Myunghwa holds her head up, but Namjoon can tell she’s trying to ignore the mutters of the crowd. Jungkook’s leaning on Jimin, exhausted by the events of the night. Namjoon will have to check in with him after the dust has settled. 

The group splits at the next crossroads, the two men helping Eunsuk home and the rest heading for the bakery. It’s good and truly night now, with the moon rising higher every second. Jungkook keeps his head buried in the crook of Jimin’s shoulder. Though anger still bubbles in him like a rolling boil, like molten sugar, he’s  _ tired _ , tired down to the marrow of his bones. Even if the bakery still stands, can it ever be safe again? Will the kitchen ever feel like home again? 

He doesn’t want to see the outside world if it means things will change yet again, if he no longer has this home. 

But just as they turn the corner up a familiar street, Jungkook catches a glimpse of yellow light spilling onto the frozen soil. 

In front of the Lion Hawk’s Haven is another crowd of people, all of them familiar and friendly. They’re the neighbors of the bakery: the owners of the shops next door, the tenants of the apartments across the street, the cabbage cart guy Jin likes to mock, the teenagers who like to do their homework in the bakery. Jungkook also notices that the broken door has been taken off the hinges, and replaced with a rough-hewn replacement. 

As they approach, Jin slows his pace as the group turns to look at them. One woman, Chaeyoung, steps out of the crowd. Jungkook recognizes her as one of their morning regulars. She’s in the bakery at least four times a week buying bread or baked goods for her family. Her son had been in the bakery when the mob had taken him and Namjoon.

“Is everyone alright?” she asks, bundled up against the night’s chill. 

“We’ll be okay. What’s all this?” Jin nods to the crowd outside the bakery and the new door. Chaeyoung smiles. 

“My son told us what happened, how they took Jungkook and Namjoon because they’re firebenders.” She shakes her head. “You are all good people, and have done so much for the community. It’s unjust to judge someone by something they were born with. We temporarily fixed your door, and we’ll keep any second mobs away tonight.” 

Jin’s mouth isn’t hanging open, but he looks just as gobsmacked. Jungkook picks his head up from Jimin’s shoulder, feeling something other than helpless rage rise in his chest. 

“You would do that?” Namjoon asks, “for us?” 

“What if someone gets hurt?” asks Hoseok. 

“You have given us a safe place in your bakery,” Chaeyoung says. “A place for our children to play, a place to eat traditional dishes some of us haven’t had for - a long time. You deserve a safe place in Gaoling.” 

“Thank you,” Jin says, bowing deeply. The rest of them bow and thank the group as well. Jungkook can hardly believe it. Even when the world seems overrun with fear and hatred, even when such rage can exist inside of him, there can be generosity as well, compassion. It’s contradictory; kindness should be immiscible in so much anger, but the two coexist anyways. 

“Get your family home,” Chaeyoung tells him gently. “We’ll be just outside the door.”

Once inside, it’s clear the group has cleaned up a little as well. The broken table and chairs have been stacked in a corner, and the floor has been smoothed and cleared of any lingering rubble. Other than that, the bakery still looks and smells the same as before. Jungkook could cry, and finds the tears already gathering in his eyes. Jimin notices and leads him to an empty seat. Spirits, he’s so tired, but he’s so  _ relieved _ .

“I’m going to make some tea,” Jin announces. “Myunghwa-yah, do you want something to eat or drink?” 

“Yes please, Seokjin-ssi,” Myunghwa says. She takes a seat across from Jungkook, unwilling to make eye contact with the crying man. Jimin kisses him on the cheek. 

“You’re covered in dust, I’m gonna find you another shirt upstairs,” Jimin says, heading for the backdoor. 

“I’ll go look for her family,” Taehyung offers. 

“Oh no you won’t,” Yoonji retorts. “You got knocked out earlier, you need some rest. Hoseok and I can go.” Hoseok nods, and both of them walk out the door. Taehyung sighs dramatically, but doesn’t protest further. 

“I’ll go help Jin-hyung in the kitchen.” He leaves, and Jungkook fights the urge to lay his head down on the table. 

“Why are you crying?” Myunghwa asks him, not without empathy. 

“Because I’m tired but I’m happy that we’re all still together,” Jungkook tells her. “Sometimes, you just need to cry.” 

“That’s true,” Myunghwa agrees, hands fiddling in her lap awkwardly. 

“What does your family think of your bending?” Namjoon asks, coming back from the kitchen and setting down a tray of leftover bungeoppang on the table. Myunghwa’s eyes light up, clearly recognizing the food. 

“My parents are both nonbenders,” she says, reaching for a pastry. “They came to the Earth Kingdoms a while ago, before I was born. I’m the only one who can bend in my family.” She takes a bite, looking solemnly down at the table. “No one says anything, but...I think they’re afraid my baby sister will be able to firebend too, when she’s older. They don’t know how to handle just one of me.” 

“Well,” Namjoon says, taking a pastry for himself, “I’m sure your parents are doing their best, even if they’re out of their depth. But if you ever wanted to, you can come here and talk about it.” 

“You can teach me?” Myunghwa asks, perking up in her seat. Namjoon shakes his head quickly, and Jungkook laughs, wiping at his eyes. 

“Don’t let him fool you, he taught me all I know,” Jungkook tells her conspiratorially. Namjoon sticks his tongue out, and Myunghwa giggles. Just then, Jin swans out of the kitchen with a tray of chamomile tea, Taehyung close behind with plates and cups. 

“We come bearing gifts!” Jin sets the tray down with great panache, back in his element. Jungkook grins at Jin and his familiar showmanship. “I see you’ve broken poor Jungkook’s heart, if he’s crying already.” 

“No way,” Myunghwa denies behind her giggles, “He was crying before I sat down! He says it’s because he’s happy!”

“Is that right?” Jin hums, pouring them all a cup of tea. Jungkook nods. Despite this awful night, the worst night he’s lived through in a long time, he’s happy. 

\-----

Things are bumpy, after that night. But they do get better. 

It’s difficult for Jin and Namjoon to sleep in the upstairs apartment, both of them remembering all too well how easily the house was broken into. Even with a new door and several locks between them and the outside world, neither of them find sleep very easily. For a week or so, they both crash at Jungkook and Jimin’s cramped apartment a block away; first because of the repairs that needed to be done, and then because everyone felt safer when together. Yoonji and Taehyung are also over more often than not in the evenings, dragging Hoseok along with them. 

Even after the bakery doors and windows are repaired, even when they’ve been open again for weeks, there’s an acute feeling of unseen danger. Jimin takes to carrying a rather large knife on his person, and Jungkook begs Namjoon to teach him just one offence technique, just for self-defense. Namjoon agrees, not because he wants Jungkook to burn people, but because he knows if they are arrested again, it won’t be a simple matter of breaking them out. They’ll be taken out of the city in a heartbeat, shipped off to some prison where Jin and the others can’t reach them. 

Hoseok, after reading copious books on more deadly veins of botany, starts to grow bull nettles in the window boxes just outside the bakery. The white flowers are pretty to look at, but can cause a rash if touched. He and Jimin make sure to warn all the neighborhood kids never to pick the flowers when they play on the porch. If a mob comes again, the stinging vines will answer his call. 

The police, surprisingly, leave them alone. Jin theorizes that maybe they consider this a resolved personal matter: arrested by citizens and taken back by citizens. Maybe they’re just scared of Yoonji and her bending. Either way, he’s glad for the hesitant peace.

Only once does someone try to antagonize them once more. A woman at the counter gives Namjoon a hard time, commenting how the bakery is run by felons. Hoseok politely but firmly gets her to leave, an unyielding hand on her shoulder. 

And yet, though they all come back crooked and a little more fearful than before, they grow back all the same, like a healing bone. Life returns to the bakery. Business is good, especially as many of their regulars stop by just to check on the staff. The Lion Hawk’s Haven is full of spiced scents and rising dough once again.

Myunghwa’s family comes to thank them for taking care of their daughter, and become regular visitors to the bakery. There aren’t many places in Gaoling that serve food from the Fire Isles. Myunghwa herself stops by after school to take lessons from Namjoon. Since she’s so young, Namjoon mostly focuses on breathing. It’s also an opportunity to talk through her emotions about that night, and about her identity as a firebender when the Fire Nation is at war. Jungkook feels indescribably grateful that Namjoon has made himself a resource for this girl; he sorely needed an outlet like that when he was 13, and he’s glad Myunghwa has that. 

The dead of winter passes in a haze, of fear and uncertainty, but also a sense of healing. Spring is just around the corner, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for sticking around thus far!
> 
> This chapter was a lot of fun to write. I'm not big on fight scenes, but making Yoonji a badass was too tempting. And If you know me at all irl, you know I'm huge on the idea of mentorship and passing things on. 
> 
> Comments/kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Find me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/sunstarsseokjin


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Sweethearts!
> 
> It's the last chapter! Thanks so much for reading! I wrote this for NaNoWriMo 2020, the first year I've hit that 50k goal, and it was so much fun and so satisfying! Thank you for joining me on this journey!
> 
> Happy Reading!

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing.” A hand brushes over his cheekbone, lazily brushing the hair from his temple. It’s getting long again, to the middle of his ears. The whites of Jimin’s eyes almost glow in the dim lighting of the bedroom, most of his body hidden now by the mess of blankets. His face is only inches away from his own. 

It was still light when they had first entered the bedroom and Jimin had smiled at him, tongue between his teeth. 

It’s twilight now, dipping low into true night. The sweat of the day still cooling on his lower back, Jungkook rolls over onto his side, his ribs wanting to stick to the fabric of the sheets. He can see Jimin better this way. He has that look on his face he always does after this, a softer version of his earlier tease. Jungkook has the look memorized. 

“The little place between your eyebrows is all wrinkled, like you’re thinking about something hard.” A finger rubs the ridge of his brow bone between his eyes, and Jungkook scrunches up his nose to fend it off. 

“I’m thinking about you, and you’re not hard.”

“Well, not anymore,” Jimin snickers, shifting to lay his head on his arm. 

“I just mean that you’re not hard to read. Well, I know how to read you, that took some time. Not that you’re easy to read, but I mostly know what you’re thinking when you, I mean-”

“I get it, Kookie-kun.” Jimin slides his hand from Jungkook’s temple to the back of his neck, eyes brimming over with indulgence. “You understand me.” There is familiar, familiar, familiar love in his eyes, worn down and worked into every pore.

“And you understand me,” Jungkook murmurs, twisting his neck to try and kiss Jimin’s hand. It’s a silly gesture. Jungkook feels silly. Jungkook feels lighter with Jimin, in this dark room. 

“Most of the time,” Jimin amends, allowing Jungkook to kiss his hand, lips to palm. Devotion. Jungkook can see only part of Jimin’s body and that’s not fair, that he cannot see all of it all the time. It’s not fair that he has memorized every curve, muscle and bone and sinew and marrow, so that it’s impossible to be surprised by the other’s nakedness. It’s not fair that Jungkook only has a lifetime to spend with this familiar, familiar, familiar love. 

Jimin presses a wet kiss behind Jungkook’s ear and rolls out of the bed, stretching tall. Jungkook watches with only one eye open; there are no more surprises, he feels no need to drink in the sight like a starving man. 

“I’m gonna get water, want anything?” Jimin picks up what looks like a shawl off the floor and ties it around his waist. Jungkook can see a gap of aureate thigh through the slit in the fabric and opens his other eye. He may not be starving, but he’s a man of good tastes. He knows fleeting art when he sees it. 

“Mm I’m okay, but thanks.” Jimin slips out the door with one last look, and Jungkook closes his eyes. There is dirt and flour under his nails, and his calves have started to cramp from being on his feet all day. He would not be considered wealthy by most. But when Jimin walks back into the room, dressed in nothing but worn-down love and his golden skin, Jungkook feels very rich indeed. 

“I love you.” Jimin screws up his face and kneels on the bed, a cup of water in one hand. 

“I love you too.” And that is more, more than enough, more than Jungkook could ever dream of.

-

“What are you thinking about?” 

“A lot of things,” hums Taehyung. They’re both sitting on the porch of Taehyung’s apartment, dangling their feet above the street below. Taehyung had wanted to see the moon and stars, and Yoonji had wanted a conversation. This is the compromise where no one loses. 

“Name just one,” Yoonji would sound dry and apathetic to a stranger perhaps, but Taehyung can hear the dry humor in her tone, the courtesy extended to his imagination. She would not ask if she was not curious. 

“I’m thinking about...summer. How it comes so slowly and leaves so fast and how it feels like we can’t look at it directly, though we always want it to be summer.” Taehyung rambles, leaning his head against the wooden railing and looking at Yoonji. She stares right back.

“I think you’re thinking of the sun,” she argues. Taehyung shakes his head. He’s only a little tipsy from the shared bottle or two of soju. 

“No, not the sun. It’s the heat that presses down on us, makes us sweat and blink and keep our eyes on the ground. We always must be moving in the summer, spring and fall too. Winter is the only season where we can look up.” As if to punctuate his point, Taehyung shifts to look up at the moon, counting the stars that make a ring around it. 

“If that’s so,” Yoonji says, playing along, “then isn’t every night the winter to every day? No matter the season?” 

“I suppose so.” Taehyung hums again. Yoonji kicks her feet and taps her fingers on the other hand, a rhythm Taehyung has only recently noticed and become accustomed to. He’d like to memorize all of her patterns and taps, if he’s honest, if she’d ever allow him to. 

“You think of strange things sometimes,” Yoonji tells him. She doesn’t say she dislikes hearing his strange thoughts. Taehyung takes it for a win. “Summers and winters, they all roll together in a way. They match.”

Yoonji finds she likes this: conversations in the cold, conversations where the night hides their shame, conversations about nothing heavy or on their minds.

“What are the summers like back home for you?” he asks. Yoonji shrugs, kicking once more. 

“Shorter than the ones here, but they feel much longer. The sun doesn’t really set, it just- what’s the word, hovers? Yeah, it floats above the horizon. It’s like night is a moment away, but never quite there.” 

“Sounds like fun,” Taehyung says. Yoonji shrugs again. 

‘It’s life. It is the way things are. Would you call the sand beneath your feet fun, or the way the clouds gather from the mountains fun?” 

“Maybe,” teases Taehyung. “Sounds like something I would say.” 

“It does,” Yoonji scoffs. She always sounds caught off-guard by her laughter. Taehyung wants to make her laugh more often, to surprise her at every turn. Yoonji looks out over the city, hands always moving. “Summers here are much different. Hotter. Busier, maybe, but maybe that’s just this city. The Northern Water Tribe is big but it’s not crowded like this.”

“Can you see the moon at all in the summer?” 

“Yes, it hangs with the sun just above the horizon.” Yoonji brings her thumb and forefinger together, pinching them near the skyline as if to grasp the memory of the moon in her fingers. “We can still feel the pull of the full moon in the summer, us waterbenders. It proves that it doesn’t have to be dark for the moon’s blessing to reach us. We are not only powerful in the night.”

“You are as beautiful and powerful in the sunlight as you are under the stars,” Taehyung murmurs, only half-meaning to say that out loud. Yoonji watches him carefully. 

“Am I?” The night’s breeze is warm on their skin, a harbinger of heat and humidity. 

“I thought you were beautiful the first time I saw you,” Taehyung admits. 

“I didn’t think the same of you,” Yoonji says, “I was too upset.” 

“Are you still angry?”

“Always.” She leans in closer, a rebellious streak of hair over her nose, lips parted. “But now I can see you too. In the way you see me.” 

“Yoonji-” Taehyung begins breathlessly, and then they’re kissing. It’s not clear who might have initiated it, but it doesn’t matter. Yoonji is warm and pliant under Taehyung’s hands. 

This is not the first time they’ve kissed, and Taehyung knows Yoonji likes when he puts a hand on her waist, so he does so. She shifts to face him better, barely moving away before they come back together. 

Taehyung tastes like salt, iron, and citrus, Yoonji thinks. A blood orange, the metallic scent of an over-ripe orange, peeling back the peel to reveal the fleshy insides. Taehyung tastes like a life spent in the sun, like a life spent up front and participating. 

And Yoonji  _ wants _ , in a way she has not for a good long while, to sit up straight and truly look out the window, to live this present-day sort of life with Taehyung. He makes her want to pay attention. He makes her stop thinking about the future, about what her home will be whenever she returns. 

There have not been many men before Taehyung, though she wouldn’t call herself inexperienced by any means. And no one she’s ever met is quite like Taehyung either. 

They are not puzzle pieces. He did not give her anything she did not already have. And yet. There is something complete about the way she feels with him, something that makes her feel like she can be  _ more _ , stretch further than before. With him she feels elastic, held, warm. 

“Yoonji,” Taehyung murmurs again when they slide apart, his face so close to hers that she’s unable to read his expression. 

“Tae,” she responds. His hand still weighs heavy on her waist, and she doesn’t want him to move, wants it to sink right into her and meld to her hip bone, for the warmth to tattoo itself into her skin. 

And that scares her, just a little. Just enough for her to pull back a few more inches. 

“It’s getting colder,” Taehyung says. “We should go inside.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, sliding off from where she had been halfway onto his lap. Her hip is cold. Her ears are starting to sting in the breeze. Taehyung smiles and offers her a hand, leading her through the door. 

The elastic feeling does not retreat like she assumed it would. The weight of his hand on her hip, now invisible to everyone else, does not leave her skin. 

And that scares her even more, even as she walks into Taehyung’s warm, safe apartment, into his warm, safe arms. 

\-----

“How long have you two been together?” 

“Excuse me?” Jin does his best to keep his composure and not spit out his tea. 

“How long have you and Namjoon-ah? You two have such a lovely bakery together.” The old woman, Eunsuk, gives him a wrinkled grin. Jin hides his blush in his cup. 

“I’m very sorry to report, but Namjoon and I are not in a romantic relationship with one another,” Jin answers primly. He likes Eunsuk, now one of their elderly regulars. She looks better than she did the night of the prison break three months ago. She likes to visit the bakery quite frequently, checking up on the staff. 

She always has some wisdom or wisecrack to share. Jin likes to imagine himself growing old and adopting her sarcasm, becoming someone else’s regular. 

“You live together upstairs,” she notes casually, sipping her cup of darjeeling. 

“We’re business partners and roommates,” Jin defends himself, his face much redder than he would have liked. “Honestly, it’s not that strange.” 

“You’re both attractive young men who seemingly have no attachments to anyone else.” She pats his hand almost condescendingly. “You’ll figure it out.” 

“I am not secretly pining over my best friend!” Jin splutters, perhaps a little too loud. 

“You’re not? That’s a shame.” Of course, because the spirits are vindictive matchmakers, Namjoon is standing two feet away with a teapot of darjeeling. Always attentive to their customers, the bastard. Namjoon is grinning widely, dimples on display. At a neighboring table, someone swoons into their chapssal doughnut. 

“You’d prefer that I was?” Jin raises an eyebrow. Namjoon shakes his head as he refills both of their cups. Eunsuk looks much too pleased with herself watching them banter back and forth. 

“It’d make life around here much more interesting, having a secret romance. Spirits know Jungkook and Jimin are anything but subtle.” Namjoon glances conspicuously towards the kitchen door, where Jimin and Jungkook’s voices are just audible, teasing each other about something or other. 

“Neither of them could covert if they tried, and oh, they did try.” Jin takes a sip of his now-full cup. He always drinks darjeeling with Eunsuk. It’s as much a part of his routine as coming to the bakery once a week is for her. 

“How have you been, Namjoon-ah?” Eunsuk asks. Jin knows she cares about them all, but truly loves to gossip about the bakery staffed by attractive young men to her knitting club, and uses her visits to get her weekly dose of scandal. And she definitely plays favorites: Jungkook and Namjoon are unequivocally her favorite members of the staff.

“I’m very well, Eunsuk-ssi,” Namjoon smiles politely. “Ready for the spring and the sunshine.” 

“Aren’t we all ready for a little sun?” she says, taking a sip of her tea. Namjoon dips his head to both of them, giving Jin an extra wink for good measure. Jin gives him the stink eye in return. 

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I have other customers to attend to. Enjoy your conversation.” Namjoon walks away, and Jin catches Eunsuk conspicuously watching Namjoon’s ass and thighs. Jin rolls his eyes, knowing she’s just doing it to get a rise out of him. 

“Always the charmer, aren’t you?” he remarks. She just smiles at him.

“I meant it,” she says. “You haven’t found that person yet, but you’ll figure it out. You’re young, you have so much you have yet to become.” It’s abruptly sweet from her usual comments, and Jin takes a moment to let it sink in.

“You know,” he says at last, looking over the busy tables in his bakery “the strangest thing is that I think I’ve found several people that fill that role.” Over the noise of the lobby, he can hear Namjoon’s friendly conversation with customers, and Jungkook and Jimin bickering in the kitchen. He knows Hoseok will be tending to his garden at home in the new sunlight, that Yoonji will be shooing Taehyung out of bed at a reasonable time to start the day’s chores before their closing shift. 

“Then you are very lucky, Seokjin-ah.” Eunsuk pats his hand again, and it feels genuine this time. “Most of us find the people we make homes with spread out over the course of our life. You have been blessed to have them all under your roof at one time, when you are still young enough to forgive each other.” 

“Thank you,” Jin tells her, and he means it. 

\-----

“Jimin…” Jungkook’s words drag their feet. Jimin can tell he’s speaking through a suppressed smile. 

“Jungkookie…” Jimin mimics Jungkook’s tone, dodging a swat from the firebender. 

“You know you really don’t have to,” Jungkook pouts. Jimin brushes a thumb along his extended lower lip. Jungkook licks his thumb in retribution. 

“I want to.” Jimin presses himself down onto Jungkook’s chest from his perch atop Jungkook’s lap. Laying down on the bed like this, it’s easier to talk with gestures and movements they both know so well. It’s easy for Jimin to press into Jungkook’s chest to tell him to scoot up the bed. Jungkook complies, hooking his hands under Jimin’s thighs and moving them both up the bed. 

“It’s really just a formality. It’s not like it’s official or anything.” Jungkook rubs circles into the backs of Jimin’s thighs: slow, casual affection. 

“Mmm,” Jimin hums. “Well, Jin is already making a cake and Hoseok said something about Myunghwa coming, so it might as well be official.” Jungkook groans and closes his eyes, letting his head sink into the pillows. 

“It’s just a commencement. Joon-san says I’ve learned as much as he knows, it’s not like I’d be graduating from a real tutor or school.” Jungkook raises a hand and studies his palm. His control may have improved, but he’s still far away from any advanced techniques. Namjoon had only been able to convey only what he remembered from a handful of years with a tutor. Back in the Fire Isles, he wouldn’t even be close to graduating under a real bending master. 

But there’s a part of Jungkook that feels...settled now. Changed into something intentional instead of powerful and irrational. Maybe it’s the fact he’s been living here for over a year now. Maybe it’s the little foundation he’s been able to find and build upon. Maybe it’s because Namjoon is proud enough of him to throw an entire commencement ceremony, however unofficial. 

He knows how to shape the things he feels, how to press it into positive action and release. Fire bending is rooted in strong emotion. A long time ago, Jungkook called upon anger and envy to drive the flames from his fists; wide, short-lived bursts that made him feel only marginally better. A firebender was supposed to be angry and a man was supposed to be strong. A male firebender was always furious and powerful, a never-ending cycle of rage and strength feeding each other, a fiery ouroboros. 

There have been many times in the last few years where Jungkook hasn’t felt strong or angry at all. He’s felt weak and scared and not like much of the masculine firebender he’d been told to idolize. How can he be brave and powerful when he turns his back on his family? How is he any man at all if he does not rage joyously at the opportunity for war, to prove himself? How can he protect Jimin when all he feels is scared?

He doesn’t feel that way anymore, not in the way he used to. It changed the most when he and Jimin came to the Lion Hawk’s Haven. Namjoon is not that idealized man. Namjoon makes delicate little folds in his pastries and takes his tea with honey and uses his fire to light the hearth, not the flames of war. Namjoon is one of the strongest people Jungkook knows. And Jungkook has spent a long time at odds with those two facts. 

Jin isn’t even a bender, but the way he carries himself seems to shape the paths of others around him all the same. Jin is the ripple in the pond, the crease on the paper to follow. Jin does not rage or throw elements, but Jungkook thinks the man wields more power than he will ever know. And what a funny idea, to have influence and power and not be aware of it? All the faceless men Jungkook has thought of as role models have been aware of their strength, and used every last drop of it to their own gain. Jin moves through the world, earthshaker, unaware of the ripple effect of his kindness. Jungkook has never known the world to shake because of kindness. 

In fact, all of them have shaken the faceless idols off all his pedestals. Yoonji with her determination and passion, Hoseok with his empathy and advice, Taehyung with his hopes and dreams, and Jimin. Jimin is everything else, the white space on his blank pages, the gaps between his letters, the empty inch of his tea cup. Jimin has always been his support system, shoring up his defences. Jimin is the best man he knows. 

Jungkook is still scared, but that does not make him less of a man or less of a bender. He knows that now. He knows how to take his fear and anger and homesickness and make something good out of it, something unbreakable. His fire does not leap out of his palm furious, but wraps around his fingers like it’s holding him together. 

Namjoon and the rest have given him something greater than simply control of his innate fire. They have given him stability, given him a home and a heart when he thought he’d left both of those things back in the Fire Isles. 

And now Myunghwa’s been coming around too, taking simple lessons from Namjoon about breathing and control. Jungkook likes having her around. She’s young, carries none of the trauma or guilt that the rest of them do. She reminds Jungkook what hope tastes like in his tea. Myunghwa still has a chance in this world, and so do he and Jimin. 

“What, are you afraid someone is going to give an embarrassing speech about you, like at weddings?” Jimin’s teasing breaks him out of his thoughts. Jungkook blinks hard and looks up at his partner. Jimin is smiling indulgently at him, as if he knows how deep in his own head Jungkook was. 

“Maybe I’ll tell an embarrassing story about you instead,” Jungkook fires back, drifting his hands across the planes of Jimin’s back. 

“I have all the dirt on you, Jeon,” Jimin retorts, leaning into the touch. “Don’t test me.” 

\-----

It’s a warm night, a precursor for the coming months. It’s been a long winter, dragging long into the spring, but it’s warming up at last. The earth is beginning to thaw. 

Already, Hoseok can see the smallest, lightest green shoots just starting to peek above the soil in the pots he keeps inside his apartment. 

He kneels in the dirt in his garden, which is a little barren at the moment due to the lack of greenery, and hums to his little potted shoots. His garden has always been his safe place, even when it wasn’t bursting with flowers and fruits. His only regret would be how far away it is from the bakery, even if ten minutes isn’t a very long walk. Jimin and Jungkook’s apartment is also fairly close; Jungkook likes to help him weed the garden in the summer on the weekends, and Jimin trades him laundry for fresh vegetables. 

He’s heard Yoonji and Taehyung mutter about moving in together, move into a place other than either of their shoebox apartments meant only for one person and not two. There’s an empty place just down the street on Hoseok’s block, and he knows Taehyung has been at least thinking about it. 

It would be nice to have his friends, his family, so close. 

There’s something warm coming, something that smells like cut grass and honey and strawberries. There’s something green growing inside Hoseok, winding its way around his ribs, holding him safe. 

He’s not so scared anymore, not like he was. Because even if the storm rages, even when the snow comes again, he’s got these vines to hold him aloft, prop him back on his feet. 

And these vines sure feel Namjoon’s hugs and Jin’s indignation and Jimin’s laughter, don’t they? They feel like Taehyung’s yawns and Jungkook’s teeth poking over his lip and Yoonji’s careful, kind eyes. They feel like home.

He hums some more to his little plants. It’s a warm night, and he’s going to enjoy the possibilities of the future here for a little bit longer.

\-----

“ _ I swear to Hei Bai _ , Kim Taheyung, if you don’t start getting those banners hung up, I will guard the buffet with my entire life and you’ll never get a single inari sushi!” Jin stands threateningly, waving a bouquet of flowers aloft. Hoseok dithers behind him, trying to keep Jin from damaging the flowers too much. 

“I’m working on it!” Taehyung yelps, grasping the box handles and climbing onto a stool. Standing back on the solid ground, Jimin hides his laugh behind his hands. 

“Want me to hand you the nails?” 

“Yes please.” Squinting at the wall, Taehyung eyes the nail Jimin hands him and the twine of the banners. He hopes it’s even, or Jin really might withhold food, and Taehyung’s been salivating over the smells coming from the kitchen all morning. It seems like Yoonji and Jin have pulled out all the stops for today, but then again, they always did have a soft spot for the youngest. 

“Where is Jungkook, anyways?” Taehyung asks in a muffled tone, the nail hanging out of his mouth. 

“Outside, I think. Hoseok made him comb his hair and warned him not to mess it up, but I have a feeling he’ll reappear with a dog in his arms and his hair standing on end.” Jimin smiles at the thought. Taehyung laughs, then fumbles to catch the nail when it falls from his mouth. 

“Sounds like Jungkook.”

The front door swings open and Namjoon jogs in, red-faced and puffing. In his arms is a rather large bucket full of water, which splashes on the floor. From the other end of the room, Jin screeches.    
  


“Namjoon-ah!” 

“Sorry hyung!” Unfazed, Namjoon continues past the decoration committee. “Hey guys, very traditional!” 

“Thanks!” Jimin grins. “I’ve only been to one or two of these, but I made them like how I remember.” 

“Looks perfect to me!” A claw pokes out of the bucket, and Namjoon swats it back into the bucket. “Oops.”

“Namjoon! Where are those crabs?” That’s Yoonji, poking her head out of the kitchen and frowning into the late morning sunlight. 

“I got ‘em right here!” Namjoon hoists up the bucket to show off his crabs, splashing more water over the side and making Jin shriek again. 

“Never a dull moment,” Jimin mutters, and Taehyung laughs, finishing tying the twine to the nail. 

“Around here? No, never.” 

-

“Where have you been? Oh for - where did you get that baby crococat?” 

Standing at the backdoor from the kitchen to the backyard, Jungkook holds up the purring kitten with great delight. Jimin may have guessed wrong, it wasn’t a dog he returned home with, but his hair is definitely in disarray. Hoseok is absolutely going to have a fit. 

“I found her in the garden! Isn’t she the sweetest?” He nuzzles into the bristly little kitten, fuzzy clumps of fur sticking up around the ridges that go down her spine. She purrs in response, even as Jungkook gets dirt on his face from her fur. 

“She’s very cute,” Jimin admits, failing to stop from rolling his eyes, “but I don’t know if we can keep her.” 

“She can be my present! Please?” Both Jungkook and the kitten turn large, pleading eyes towards Jimin. Jimin hides his face in his hands. 

Jin takes a few steps into the kitchen, opens his mouth to reprimand Jungkook for the state of his hair, sees the baby crococat, shuts his mouth, and walks back out without a word. 

“Please?” And spirits, Jimin has always been terrible at telling Jungkook no. 

“Fine, yeah, she can be your present. But you’re cleaning up after her at home!” Jungkook nods eagerly, spinning in a joyous circle with his new friend. The kitten clings onto his hands with surprising strength, needle-like claws digging into his wrists. “Do you have a name in mind?” 

“I dunno yet. But, she reminds me of Yoonji-noona,” Jungkook says, stopping his spinning and staring thoughtfully at the kitten. 

“What reminds you of me?” Yoonji walks in, dusting her hands off. She’s already wearing her nicer clothes, something deep blue and in the style of the Northern Water Tribe. She even has on her sealskin mukluks, and although they look very warm, Jimin doesn’t envy her in the warmth of the oncoming spring. 

Jungkook holds up the kitten as an answer. Yoonji considers the tiny crococat with great scrutiny. The kitten flicks an ear and squirms in Jungkook’s hands, prompting him to reposition her so that he cradles her against his shoulder. 

“You’re both very independent, warm-hearted but a little prickly,” Jungkook clarifies. Yoonji nods. 

“Makes sense. Does she have a name?”

“Not yet.” The kitten licks his ear, and Jungkook giggles. Jimin’s heart swells, like the rivers after snowmelt, like a flood.

“Does Namjoon know you have her yet?” 

“No, but I’m sure he’ll find out soon.” From the other room, they can all hear Jin’s voice raised above the buzzing conversation, calling for the room’s attention. Yoonji nods towards the lobby. 

“C’mere, let me fix your hair before we go out there.” Jungkook quickly hands the kitten off to Jimin and allows Yoonji to brush the dirt from his cheek, the hair back from his eyes. Something in her gaze softens as he leans down for her to reach his head. 

“You’re a man now, Jungkook, and you’re already a good one.” 

“Thank you, noona.” Jimin can hear Jin start to speak, thanking everyone for coming. The lobby sounds like it’s pretty packed, but then again, the Lion Hawk’s Haven was always a cornerstone of the block’s community. 

“You ready?” Yoonji fixes the last strand of hair, and Jungkook stands back up to his full height. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook smiles, “I’m ready.” 

The three of them subtly enter the lobby from the kitchen door. The room’s attention is on Jin, who stands by the front door with a glass of soju in his hands. Hoseok is just outside the kitchen door, and he pats Jungkook on the shoulder when they join him in the crowd. 

“Did someone fix your hair?” Hoseok whispers.

“Noona did,” Jungkook whispers back. “You can tell?” 

“Nah,” and Hoseok’s smile is fond, exclusive. “I just know you.”

“This is a pretty important day,” Jin is telling the crowd. “Jungkook was already halfway to being an adult when I met him, but I feel lucky to have seen him grow the rest of the way. We’re here to commemorate his graduation from the honorable Kim Namjoon’s school of firebending and general life lessons.” This gets a few chuckles from the crowd. “But we’re also here to celebrate his and Jimin’s one year here at the Lion Hawk’s Haven.” Here, Jin pauses for the cheers and applause. 

In the crowd, Jungkook can see a lot of folks from the neighborhood: there’s Chaeyoung and her three children, Myunghwa and her entire family, and Eunsuk with another old woman. There are plenty more familiar faces, their regular customers all come to this party Jin promised would be a “small gathering.” Yeah right. 

Jin waits for the noise to die down, then continues. “I promise there’ll be food soon, but there are things that should be said. I think there’s no better person to talk about Jungkook than his teacher, Namjoon.” Another smattering of applause as Namjoon takes Jin’s spot at the front of the room, looking a little uncomfortable with the sudden attention. 

“I wouldn’t call myself a teacher, more of a friend. Sometimes, you meet the right people at the right time, and you can teach each other something, a mutual exchange. Sometimes in life, you get lucky.” Namjoon cranes his neck and smiles at the little group by the kitchen door. Hoseok waves. 

“There have been many misfortunes this year, many blessings. This has been a year full of fear and pain, and that doesn’t end here. But I can tell you this: that the blessings don’t end here either. We all grow older each day, growing into who we were meant to be, and we can choose what to do with our good or bad fortune. And I feel very blessed indeed to say that Jungkook has grown into a competent firebender, a good man, and a generous soul. It’s with great pride and honor that I give him this.” Namjoon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a strip of embroidered fabric. Jungkook feels a hand on his back pushing him forward, and then he’s walking through the crowd towards the front of the room. Namjoon is smiling at him, and his hands don’t feel quite as numb as before. 

Namjoon ties the headband around Jungkook’s head with a methodical knot, clapping a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook beams, bowing to Namjoon and Jin. 

“Thank you! I won’t forget any of the things you taught me.” 

“Oh don’t make promises you can keep,” quips Jin, and the crowd laughs. Jungkook laughs too, catching Jimin’s eye in the crowd. Taehyung has joined the little group, a hand around Jimin’s shoulder. He cups his mouth with his other hand and whoops loudly. Yoonji holds her chin high and nods once.

“I’m so proud of you,” Namjoon says quietly, his words just for Jungkook. “Not just for reaching a certain age or for learning some bending techniques. I’m proud of you for living through everything these years have thrown at you and keeping your compassion.” 

“Thanks, Namjoon-san.” Jungkook wraps his arms around Namjoon and holds him tight. Namjoon always smells like smoke and rising dough, like home. 

“Alright!” Jin claps his hands, truly in his element when he’s feeding large amounts of people, “time for the buffet! We’ve got some traditional dishes along with baked goods, please enjoy!” Jungkook catches sight of Taehyung dragging Jimin and Hoseok towards the buffet line, Jimin in possession of the kitten and holding her like one holds an infant. Namjoon also sees Jimin and the kitten, and raises an eyebrow. 

“You wouldn’t have anything to do with the crococat Jimin is holding right now, would you?” he asks, his tone fondly exasperated. 

“She’s my present,” Jungkook says, “and I think I know what I’m gonna name her.”

“What?” Jin asks, coming to stand next to Namjoon. 

“Lily, as in a fire lily.” 

“Mhmm,” Jin hums in approval, taking a sip from his glass. “Say, is it just me or does that kitten look a little like Yoonji-yah?” 

\-----

Taehyung stands at one end of the row of pea plants, feet planted, arms outstretched. 

“Ready?” Hoseok calls.

“Ready!” At his shout of approval, a rumble jolts through the earth at his feet. Taehyung quickly takes a knee and slaps his palms into the tilled soil, sinking in deep enough to cover his fingers. He responds to the rumble with an answering wave of his own. All of a sudden, he can feel a dozen spots of light in the soil, representing where the tangle of roots lie; a network of stars far out of sight from the sky. 

The soil around the plant nearest to him boils. Taehyung squints, jaw clenched. This is a job that requires a lot of focus, and a decent amount of experimentation as well. 

“Careful!” Hoseok calls over the low roar of moving soil. “Feel for the roots.” 

“I’m trying,” Taehyung grunts, then shoves his hand into the center of the rolling soil- 

“Gotcha!” He triumphantly holds the untouched pea plant aloft, but his moment of pride is cut short. 

“Keep going!” Hoseok calls sharply, loosening the earth around the roots of the next plant in the row. Taehyung quickly tosses the unharmed pea plant into Jimin’s waiting basket, then continues down the row. 

“Remind me again why Hoseok wants his pea plants in such pristine condition?” Yoonji asks Jimin, already bending a stream of water to wash the dirt from the leaves. Jimin shrugs. 

“Something about a better harvest for next year, as well as the plant’s feeling,” Jimin says, twisting the leaves so that all the peas get rinsed. “I’m not gonna question an earthbender on whether plants have feelings or not.” 

“According to Taehyung, the moon has feelings too,” Yoonji informs him, catching Taehyung’s next toss out of the air. She begins rinsing off this next plant as well. 

“Like the moon spirit?” Jimin blinks, setting the newly clean pea plant aside. 

“No,” and that’s as far as she seems willing to elaborate. Jimin rolls his eyes internally and continues to work. The spring sunshine is weak, but it’s fairly warm with the work they’re doing. Hoseok had wanted to harvest his fall-planted crops soon, so that he could make room for all his summer-loving flowers and leaves. 

After clearing both rows of peas, they stop for lunch. Jimin had been nice enough to make lunch for everyone, packing enough food for a small army in a wicker basket. With all the bending and flying soil, everyone's a little dirty, so they elect to wash off first. Jimin and Hoseok race to Hoseok’s house to fight over the sink. Taehyung’s about to follow, but something wet hits the back of his head. He turns around, hair dripping to see Yoonji grinning at him, a bubble of water floating about her waterskin. 

“Oh don’t start,” he accuses. “I could totally take you in a fight. We are literally in a field of dirt.” Yoonji waves her hand dismissively. 

“I was trained to be a soldier in the Northern Water Tribe. I’m pretty sure I can take a muddy farmer from down south.” 

“Wanna bet?” and Taehyung charges, a grin already stretching across his face. Or, he would if his feet weren’t suddenly frozen to the ground. He almost trips at the abrupt stop, but pinwheels his arms to catch himself. 

“That’s cheating,” he pouts. Yoonji does not look particularly moved by his puppy eyes, but she takes a step closer, close enough to touch. 

“It’s not cheating,” she informs him. “Because you could break free if you wanted to.” 

“Like this?” Straining upward, using the force of the earth beneath his feet to break through the ice around his shoes, he steps out of the ice and into her arms. He beams at her, his arms slung around his shoulders. She holds tight to his waist and looks up at him, an expression of mock-boredom on her face. 

“Like that,” she murmurs, their faces inches apart. 

“You know,” Taehyung remarks quietly, adjusting his arms, “the moon really does have feelings.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Allow me to demonstrate.” He presses the lightest of kisses to her forehead. “You felt that, didn’t you?” 

“Oh, you flirt.” She blushes, but doesn’t look away from his face. He presses another feather-light kiss to her temple, then her opposite cheekbone, then her nose. She laughs, leaning back in their embrace, trusting him to brace her weight. “Stop that!” 

“Nah,” Taehyung hums. She wrinkles her nose. 

“Is this your idea of romance, in a field of pea plants?” 

“Maybe. Is it working?” Taehyung waggles an eyebrow, and now she laughs genuinely, kissing him on the lips. 

“Regretfully, yes.” They stand like that for another long moment. Yoonji can feel the weak sun on her back even as Taehyung kisses her. This earth-stained, moon-struck boy in front of her. This boy she lays claim to, the one who has kept her in this city for longer than she anticipated.

“Am I really the moon?” She asks when they pull apart. Jimin and Hoseok haven’t reappeared yet; the moment is still theirs to own. Taehyung studies her face with a gentle familiarity. She likes that he has to ponder the question, that he doesn’t breeze past her words just to get more kisses.

“Nah,” he finally settles on, warm under her hands. She blinks in surprise.

“But you love the moon.” 

“I do,” he agrees. “But I don’t  _ just _ love you.” 

“Oh.” And now she is lost for words. It’s the first time he’s said those words, the ones that leave their scars. Taehyung smiles at her. He isn’t scared. He is assured of himself, even if she has not or will not say it back.

“C’mon, they’re gonna wonder where we are.” He starts to pull away, but she locks her arms tightly around his waist, making him pause. “What?” 

“You’re not the moon either,” Yoonji tells him in a rush, the words clamouring out of her mouth dusty from disuse. He tilts his head in brief confusion, then it seems to click. “Taehyung, you are not my moon. You are not far away. You are right  _ here _ .” She emphasizes her last word with a tap of her fingers to his sternum. 

“Yoonji-” Taehyung starts, but gets interrupted. 

“Hey lovers!” Jimin waves from Hoseok’s front door, the owner of said house peering over his shoulder at them. “Come wash up, I brought food and everything.” 

“We better go,” Yoonji mutters, pulling away from Taehyung. She does not regret what she said, but the moment is gone. Now, it’s time to return to reality. But as she pulls away, Taehyung catches her hand, soil-stained. She lets him. 

Together, they walk towards the house, hand in hand. 

\-----

“Hyung?” 

“Hm?” 

“...Do you think we did it? Made the home we wanted to make?” A pause. 

“I think it built itself around us. And I don’t regret it. Not a thing.”

“Me neither.” 

“Drink your tea, Joon-ah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> In my experience, food is one of my only tangible connections to family. Eating with others and the act of making more traditional dishes is a comfort, a physical connection. Sharing a meal is how we shows love, show pride. I wanted to write that into this story about war and diaspora and finding/choosing family, how food can be a way to reconnect with your roots. I hope you enjoyed. If you have similar stories or experiences, please share below
> 
> Comments/kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Find me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/sunstarsseokjin


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